Reunion
by joy2190
Summary: Neal's connection with a beautiful bank robber leads Peter to uncover the tragic circumstances of his childhood.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: **White Collar belongs to USA Network and Jeff Eastin.

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><p><strong>REUNION<strong>

Special Agent Peter Burke and his team were gathered in the conference room at the White Collar Crime Unit reviewing new cases that had come in over the past couple of weeks; debating the merits of each in order to prioritize which would be handled next. Agent Clinton Jones gave his colleagues a short synopsis of the _Walker_ case, flipping up the security footage of their prime suspect leaving the bank; a woman in her early thirties with long, dark hair, held back by sunglasses, casually leaving the bank with a briefcase full of cash. Jones stilled the tape on the clearest image of her face, which she appeared to make no effort to hide. As he did so Neal Caffrey gasped and in an uncharacteristically unguarded moment he let slip a barely audible whisper, "_Girl_."

"Neal, do you know this woman?" Peter asked the Criminal Consultant.

Neal gave no response; in fact he seemed unaware that his boss had even addressed him. He just continued staring at the picture, his complexion growing paler by the second. Peter repeated himself, louder this time but Neal remained transfixed. After an awkward pause, Peter all but shouted at Neal, who slowly turned to face him, before softly replying, "No, Peter, I don't." It was so patently obvious that Neal's response was untrue that Peter was too taken aback to question him further.

"Okay Jones, what else do you have?" Peter asked the agent, who shot Neal an irritated look before carrying on.

Immediately Jones started talking, Neal got up and walked out of the conference room. He went down the stairs to the agents' bullpen, passing their empty desks and turned into the corridor leading to the restrooms, disappearing from view.

"Well, that was odd. Even by Caffrey standards." said Agent Diana Berrigan.

"Anyone got a clue what the hell is going on with him?" Peter demanded.

Diana and Jones shook their heads, both just as baffled as he was. Peter looked up at the clock. It was nearly 12:00 noon.

"Fine, take an early lunch and let's meet back here in an hour. Perhaps we'll get some sense out of Caffrey then." He snapped, dismissing them with an irritated wave as he went off in search of Neal.

Peter found him in the men's room, splashing his face with cold water. His eyes were red and puffy and it was clear that Neal had been crying. Peter's frustration dissipated on seeing that his friend was clearly upset. He put his hand on Neal's shoulder and asked quietly, "You okay there, buddy?"

Neal shrugged him off, replying somewhat sharply, "I'm fine Peter. I just need some fresh air. I feel a migraine coming on."

He pushed past Peter and walked quickly to the elevators, pressing the _Down_ button with much more force than was necessary. Peter wasn't sure whether to follow or let him have some space to cope with whatever was going on in his mind. One thing that he was certain of was that Neal was far from _fine_. This behavior was so aberrant for the normally courteous conman that Peter decided to let it drop and catch up with him later when Neal had had a chance to gather himself together.

When Neal didn't return by 2:00 PM no one was particularly surprised. Despite Neal's deception regarding the mystery bank robber Peter didn't doubt that he was probably now in the grip of a fully-fledged migraine and had gone home to try and sleep it out. They carried on without him, Jones picking up where he had left off.

"It's not that big a case yet, Boss." He began, "So far, over the past three months she's cashed out five checks that we know of at various banks around town, all cashier's checks with the same fake account and routing numbers, each for eight thousand dollars. They're quality forgeries. Neal took a look at them for me earlier and said they were among the best he'd seen. Of course, that was prior to his _episode_ before lunch. He certainly didn't act like he recognized the workmanship when he first saw them. Do you think they've been partners in crime?"

"Or maybe just_ partners_," Diana suggested, "She's quite glamorous, looks very much like Neal's type."

Peter groaned, "Let's just hope that there's no connection."

He knew how fiercely loyal Neal was to his criminal friends. If he had been involved with this woman, Neal would be uncooperative at best. More likely, he would compromise the investigation to protect her. Peter's gut feeling was that this was not going to play out well for all concerned. Unfortunately, his gut was seldom wrong and in this instance his sense of foreboding would turn out to be all too justified.

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><p><strong>TBC<strong>

**I appreciate your feedback, please take the time to review this chapter/story.**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: **White Collar belongs to USA Network and Jeff Eastin.

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><p><strong>Chapter 2<strong>

Peter sat alone at his desk and looked out across the now deserted White Collar Crime Unit. Jones and Diana had long gone for the day and Neal hadn't returned since his abrupt departure that morning. His wife, Elizabeth had a function with Burke Premier Events that evening and so he had stayed on to re-read through the _Walker_ file so see if he could find any connection with Neal. Jones had given the case its moniker as he thought that the woman walked out of the banks with a certain panache, more like a model going down the runway instead of a thief slinking out disguised in hats or glasses. She certainly had nerve, and style. Peter agreed with Diana's assessment that she looked like Neal's type. Both felons were excellent forgers and about the same age, dressed well and favored non-violence when committing their crimes. The more he studied the women's features the more she reminded him of Sara, Neal's on-again/off-again girlfriend. Peter liked Sara and although she had given evidence that helped put Neal in jail the first time, she had eventually succumbed to the conman's charms now that he was under the FBI's wing. Peter thought they made a pretty good couple. It was his hope that Sara would be the influence Neal needed to keep on the straight and narrow. They clearly had the same kind of trust issues that dogged Peter and Neal's own relationship but he had encouraged her to stick with Neal even when she got frustrated by his 'grey areas' as they jokingly referred to them.

The usual preliminary searches had come up with nothing useful about the woman. She always wore thin gloves and had left no fingerprints at any of the banks or on the cashier's checks. Her ID was another excellent forgery yielding nothing on her true identity. Even facial recognition had come up blank, other than confirming it was the same women in each of the banks. It was as if she had arrived in New York out of nowhere and Peter feared that she would disappear just as mysteriously.

It infuriated him that Neal had lied outright about knowing her. Whilst they had certainly had their spats over the previous three years that Neal had been attached to the Unit, he always insisted that he told Peter the truth. How could his response be anything other than a blatant lie? Peter decided that he was just chasing his tail trying to come up with an answer; it was time to confront Neal man-to-man. He picked up his jacket from the back of his chair and slid into it as he left the office and headed off to the parking garage.

Neal's landlady June answered the door with an extremely concerned expression.

"Peter, thank goodness!" she exclaimed as he walked in. "What on earth has happened? I can't get any information out of Neal. I have never seen him this upset."

She told Peter how Neal had come home looking completely washed out and had been unable to give her anything close to a coherent answer when she had asked what was wrong with him. He had claimed he had a migraine and while he did look unwell, she thought there was more to it. When she had gone up to check on him an hour later she was surprised to see that he was not sleeping it off as he would usually do when he had migraines. Instead he was manically drawing various portraits of a woman and a girl. There were dozens of them strewn around the apartment and Neal's hands and face were covered in dark charcoal marks. His hair was wild and his face so pale it had a green tinge to it. When she spoke to him he hadn't answered until she picked up one of the drawings at which point he seemed to snap to and then started shouting at her, "Leave her alone, don't you touch her!"

While June was technically Neal's landlady, in reality she was far more than that. She had been one of the people to befriend him when he was released from jail into the custody of the FBI. A chance meeting at a thrift store had resulted in an offer of a guest apartment and she and Neal had become very close over the following three years that they had shared a residence. Her role had become more indulgent grandmother than landlady and Neal adored her for it. He had always treated her with the utmost respect. Yet today, he had all but thrown her out of his apartment (her apartment!) and had actually frightened her by his behavior.

"I did think of calling you Peter, but I was going to check on him again before doing so, in case he had calmed down. It's been quiet for some time now but to be honest, I was still a little too scared to go in."

Peter put a reassuring hand on June's shoulder and recounted the events at the office.

"Don't worry we'll get to the bottom of this. I think we have a rough ride ahead though. This woman clearly means a lot to him and given how hard he took the whole Kate saga I am not looking forward to where this is going. Let me go up now and see if he's talking. I'll speak with you before I leave." He assured her.

Peter headed wearily up the stairs to Neal's door. He already had a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach and it only worsened when he opened the door to survey the chaos within.

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><p><strong>TBC<strong>

**I appreciate your feedback, please take the time to review this chapter/story.**


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: **White Collar belongs to USA Network and Jeff Eastin.

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><p><strong>Chapter 3<strong>

Peter slowly swung open the door to Neal's apartment and softly called out to him, "Neal? You in here, Bud?"

Silence. He stood in the doorway surveying the scene in front of him. June was right; there were dozens of pictures all over the apartment. Many were of the woman from the bank surveillance video but most were of a young girl, aged somewhere between six and twelve depending on the picture. There was a strong resemblance between them all and Peter had no doubt that they were of the same person. A person Neal had known as a child by the looks of things.

Talking of Neal, _where was he_? Peter called out again and walked through the papers to the alcove where Neal's slept, expecting to find him crashed out on his bed. But Neal was nowhere in sight. He checked out on the balcony and then the bathroom before sitting down on the sofa, puzzled. By this time June had ventured upstairs and was standing tentatively by the dining table looking at Peter.

"Any luck?" she asked.

Peter shook his head, "Are you sure he didn't leave?"

"No, I would have noticed." June replied. "I was sitting downstairs the whole time. He never left the apartment."

Peter got up and went over to join her, righting a chair that lay on the floor beside the table. He sifted through some of the pictures picking up one of a younger girl.

"Has Neal ever mentioned a sister to you?" he asked June. "Whoever this is he seems very protective of her. I know next to nothing about Neal's childhood. I wouldn't be surprised if he had siblings but had never let on about them."

"No, he's never talked about his early life with me, Peter. I get the impression it wasn't great. Whenever I've brought the subject up he has closed down immediately. She doesn't look much like Neal though, she has a completely different face shape don't you think? Oh Peter, I don't get a good feeling about this, at all."

"Me neither. Neal can be an enigma at the best of times but I am feeling well out of my depth with this. My gut is sending me all sorts of warning signals."

Just then they heard a movement from the bedroom and a whimpering sound. Peter spun around and headed back over to the bed and looked behind it but Neal wasn't there either. Again, the sound came from the direction of the bed and Peter squatted down to look underneath. Neal was curled up in a ball, his back against the wall beneath the headboard.

"Good grief!" Peter exclaimed. "How on earth did he get under there? Neal, _Neal_ wake up!"

They heard a low groan, then a raspy, "_P … Peter?_"

Peter lay down on his stomach beside the bed and stretched his arm under it to try and touch Neal. He could just reach his left leg and felt the hard tracking anklet above Neal's foot. He tapped Neal's shoe and saw him instinctively draw his leg closer to his body. It was amazing he could move at all, he seemed completely wedged under the bed.

"Neal, if I raise the bed, do you think you could slide out?"

"I dunno, I don' feel so good, Peter." Neal replied feebly.

Peter looked around the room for something that he could raise the bed up on. There were plenty of big books, but the bed was made of heavy wood and Peter doubted they could take its weight. He noticed the fireplace and the scuttle beside it full of thick logs. _Perfect_. He hurried over and piled four of the logs into his arms and returned to the bedroom. Setting them on the floor beside the bed he turned to June for help.

"If I lift this could you slide a log under the leg of the bed?"

"Certainly," June replied and picking up one of the logs she knelt beside the end of the bed.

"Okay, on the count of three. One, two, three."

Peter strained under the weight of the bed for a moment and June quickly set the log underneath. They repeated the process on the other side of the bed. There was a heavy mirror on the table next to the top of the bed and June held it steady while Peter carefully slid the table away from the bed. Then they put the final two logs under the top legs of the bed. It was a little precarious but it provided sufficient clearance for Neal to move more freely.

Peter squatted down at the head of the bed so he could see Neal's face clearly.

"Okay, Bud. We've got you all set up here. Give me your hand and I'll pull you out."

He reached out to clasp Neal's wrist, but Neal let out a yelp and pulled away from him, skittering back toward the other side of the bed.

"Whoa there cowboy!" Peter called out, alarmed.

Neal was very close to knocking the log on the other side out of place and Peter was worried that if it came out the bed would crash down on Neal. He could still see Neal's face and he tried to make eye contact with him but Neal had his eyes tightly shut and his chin tucked into his chest. His fists were clenched and pulled up to his forehead protectively. Neal's whole body was trembling.

Peter got up and turned to June.

"What are we going to do?" He asked askance. "He seemed to recognize me at first, but now he's off in his own world. Do you want to see if you can get through to him?"

June nodded and bent down so her head was level with Neal's.

"Neal, darling. It's June, can you hear me?" She called out in a comforting tone of voice. "Neal, everything's all right. Open your eyes, dear and look at me."

To her relief Neal moved his head and looked up at her.

"That's it Neal. I'm over here, dear. Would you come over so I can see you more clearly, please?"

Slowly Neal seemed to surface from his dream state and he slid carefully over the floor until his face was almost next to June's. June smiled gently and reached out to stroke his cheek.

"That's better." She said encouragingly. "Now, how about sliding out so I can get up, my knees are hurting a bit. Won't you come out now, dear?"

June moved back to allow Neal to slide out completely. Peter bent down and gently put his hands under Neal's arms, lifting him up off the floor. Neal's shirt was down around his shoulders and Peter pulled it up and gathered it together. He put his hands on Neal's cheeks and turned his face so he was looking directly at him.

"Welcome back, Bud. What you doing down there?" He asked gently.

Neal looked at him with a dazed expression. He seemed uncertain of what was happening. Peter took him by the hand and led him over to the sofa and sat him down.

"How about, you stay here with June while I get the bed back to normal and then we'll get you into something cleaner, okay?" He asked, looking over Neal's disheveled clothing. His shirt was torn and covered in charcoal stains, his pants were the same and he only had one shoe on.

June went to the bathroom to get a wet wash cloth and wiped Neal's face clean. He watched her carefully as she folded it over and then used it on his hands. Peter moved around the bed, picking up each corner in turn and kicking the logs out before lowering it down again. When he was finished he pulled the covers back and collected Neal's t-shirt and silk pajama bottoms and brought them over to June.

"Do you think you could get him into these while I straighten things out a bit?"

"Surely," June replied and turned to Neal with a calming smile.

"Here now, let's take that old shirt off and get you more comfortable." She said as she started to undo what buttons still remained on the shirt.

Peter could hear her in the background while he quickly moved through the apartment gathering up all the drawings and stacking them on the table. He kept glancing over at the sofa to make sure Neal was still compliant, but the young man seemed completely calm and was following June's every request without question. Peter went over to the sink and filled a glass with cold water, taking it over to Neal.

"Neal, do you think you could drink a little?" He asked, bringing the glass up to Neal's lips while cradling the back of his head.

It was a little unnerving how quiet Neal was. Something was definitely off about him. Peter had seen him shaken up before or even in shock after a particularly scary take down. But this was different. Neal's behavior seemed child like in some way. He looked from Peter to June and back as though he were trying to figure out what they wanted. He didn't appear to know who they were yet he obeyed them without comment. They got him to stand up and move back to the bed where they tucked him in, before sitting down on either side of the bed.

June brushed Neal's hair back off his forehead and asked, "Neal, do you know where you are?"

He slowly shook his head, all the time watching her.

"Do you think you could close your eyes and rest for a bit, Bud?" Peter added.

Neal turned to look at him and nodded slowly. In less than a minute Neal was sound asleep, gently snoring. Peter looked across the bed to June.

"It's time to call Mozzie." He said with a deep sigh.

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><p><strong>TBC<strong>

**I appreciate your feedback, please take the time to review this chapter/story.**


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: **White Collar belongs to USA Network and Jeff Eastin.

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><p><strong>Chapter 4<strong>

While Peter called Mozzie, June went off to get some coffee and snacks for them all. She sensed it was going to be a long night and as it was their nerves were already frayed. She knew Peter was a fan of her Italian roast and would appreciate something to eat. He'd looked worn out when he had arrived an hour ago, but now his face showed just how exhausted he was. It felt as though they had been up in Neal's apartment for days. Her staff was gone for the night, but June quickly put together a sandwich platter and a couple of French pastries that were left over from breakfast. Together with the coffee that should put some energy back in Peter. He was going to need it for sure. She had come to feel a deep respect for Peter over the years of their acquaintance. He had pulled Neal out of more than a few scrapes that by rights should have landed the conman back in jail. At first he had been very black and white in his interpretation of what was okay and what was not, where Neal was concerned. But he had mellowed out considerably over the last couple of years and she knew that if anyone was going to get Neal safely through what lay ahead, it was Peter. With Mozzie's help, that is.

After filling Mozzie in on their bizarre evening, Peter followed the aroma downstairs and joined June in the sitting room to await their friend's arrival. Peter thanked June for the refreshments and sat down to eat. As he silently made his way through the food his frown deepened. June poured the coffee and sat back in a deep easy chair, her legs tucked under her. As she sipped the brew she played out the day in her head.

"Honestly, this seems a bit too dramatic for Neal. He doesn't break down in front of others this easily. It felt like we were dealing with a different person up there, don't you think?"

"Well, it certainly wasn't the Neal I know. I get the whole suave conman facade that he puts up for our benefit, and his I suspect. Seeing this woman has opened up a whole different side to him. I guess it just shows us how much we don't know about Neal Caffrey" Peter replied.

Just then the doorbell rang and June quickly let Mozzie in. He cast a worried look upstairs toward Neal's apartment while following her into the lounge. He sat down and accepted June's coffee graciously. He took a sip and looked up to find June and Peter both sitting on the edge of their chairs, looking at him expectantly. He seemed nervous in response. Mozzie a.k.a. Dante Haversham, was Neal's oldest friend. They had hooked up on the streets of New York years ago and had worked together on countless scams and cons. He had created Neal Caffrey; in as much as he had given him his alias and forged the relevant papers. Mozzie knew more about Neal's past than anyone else, and Peter was relying on him to tell them what was wrong with Neal. Mozzie, however, was less than forthcoming.

"Honestly, Peter, I do not know who she is." He had gone through the whole pile of pictures and drawn a blank. "Neal has never mentioned having a sister or a niece or any female relative come to think of it." Technically, it wasn't all a lie, he did have a very good idea who she was, but Neal had never referred to the girl as a sister.

"But he told me some about his mother and father once." Peter said.

"I wouldn't put much stock in that if I were you. He's told me several versions of the same thing. The story changes depending on his mood." Mozzie retorted, hoping he sounded convincing.

A silence fell over the room for a few minutes. Then Peter remembered Neal's response to the original bank footage. He hadn't told Mozzie about that when they talked on the phone earlier.

"Does _girl_ mean anything to you?" He asked casually.

Mozzie's stomach dropped. He'd hoped this was not 'the girl' but there was really no denying it. He realized he couldn't bluff Peter any longer, if this was truly Neal's _girl_ then his carefully constructed house of cards was about to collapse. He straightened upright in his chair, his face drained of color. This was something that Mozzie had dreaded for years.

"Why on earth didn't you tell me about that earlier, _Suit_?" He snapped at Peter, using anger to cover his fear. "That changes everything. Oh, my _god_ I can't go through all this again." The last statement was genuine, Neal had put him through the wringer as a youth. Then he'd had experience on his side, and had done a pretty good job keeping Neal sane. Now that Neal was all grown up, he doubted he could keep a handle on him so well.

"What are you talking about?" Peter demanded.

Mozzie went on to tell them a heavily edited version of when he first met Neal. Neal's timeline was always a little vague, depending on how old Neal needed to be at any given time. In truth neither Neal nor Mozzie knew his real age and Mozzie usually claimed that Neal was in his teens, implying late teens, but even early teens was pushing it. As the story became embellished over the years, Neal morphed into his early twenties. He was supposed to be in his early thirties now, but more likely it was his late twenties.

"Anyway, the point is, whatever age he really was, he was young physically, but _very_ young emotionally. He would have dreadful nightmares, thrashing around and screaming. He would yell out _girl_ all the time. He was pretty shell-shocked and clingy when he awoke but if I ever asked him who this _girl_ was he would clam up immediately and find some excuse to leave the apartment. Or divert the conversation, you know how he is. Before we got our act going and could afford a two-bedroom place we would bunk together and more than once I was literally kicked out of bed when he would start up. It got so bad I would move to the couch as soon as he started, if I was fast enough. So my guess, _Suit_, is that this woman is our mysterious _girl_ all grown up. Or certainly someone very like her. I don't envy you trying to get anything about her out of Neal. It got pretty scary sometimes back then. He didn't stop with the nightmares for several years. When Kate came along he seemed to move on. By then he was so far into his whole con-about-town persona I thought he had forgotten about his _girl_. Good luck _Suit_." Mozzie leant back into his seat but he didn't look relaxed and his concerned expression remained.

"_Yeah_," Peter thought to himself. "_I'm going to need boat loads of it._"

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><p><strong>TBC<strong>

**I appreciate your feedback; please take the time to review this chapter/story.**


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: **White Collar belongs to USA Network and Jeff Eastin.

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><p><strong>Chapter 5<strong>

Mozzie reluctantly agreed to stay with Neal overnight and promised to call Peter if there were any more _episodes_. He made sure he was safely out of harm's way, tucked up on the sofa where he could keep an eye on Neal. However, when he awoke, Neal was already up, showered and dressed, looking as though nothing out of the ordinary had gone down the previous night. "Sorry Moz Man, I got to dash. Peter's already downstairs. June says please join her on the roof terrace for breakfast."

Neal left the apartment and Mozzie quickly texted Peter before Neal arrived at the car. _Everything back to normal, Suit._ Peter deleted the message just as Neal opened the car door. The ride to the White Collar Crime Unit was exactly as every other day. Peter had to admire Neal's ability to act so coolly given his breakdown the evening before. As they continued on their way, it occurred to him that perhaps Neal wasn't acting at all but had disassociated from what had happened in the apartment.

"Everything okay this morning _Bud_?" he asked, trying to sound noncommittal.

"Everything's peachy!" Neal breezed back. Peter let the matter drop. He knew a dead horse when he saw one.

The day went on as per normal. Neal, Diana and Jones all had ongoing cases they needed to do research on and the morning passed uneventfully. Peter stayed in his office but kept a constant eye on his Criminal Consultant, ever wary of another meltdown. Jones had the _Walker_ file on his desk and when he left with Diana for a coffee run mid-morning Peter saw Neal surreptitiously stroll over to his co-worker's desk and lift the file.

_So that's how you're going to play it Caffrey._ _Act as though nothing happened and work behind our backs._

Peter made sure that Neal did not see him watching him as he disappeared to the copy room with the file. When he came back less than five minutes later he returned the file to Jones' desk stopping en route at his own to slip a paper into the bottom drawer. Moments later Jones and Diana returned with the coffee and Peter joined them in the bullpen to collect his latte. He picked up Neal's cappuccino and passed it to Neal making sure that he _inadvertently_ spilt some on Neal's suit.

_Two can play this game, Neal_.

He suppressed a grin as Neal cursed and rushed to the bathroom to take care of his precious Devore. When he opened the drawer to find a copy of the eight by ten of the security photo he heaved a sigh and immediately regretted having found it. It was a hollow victory to con the conman.

Mid-afternoon things suddenly got exciting when Jones got a call from Drummonds Bank downtown. The mysterious woman had been spotted by a sharp-eyed security guard, who had seen her checking out the bank while sitting outside a coffee shop opposite. It had been a long shot when Jones had circulated her picture to the banks with a caveat that she might be around. Obviously this guard took his job more seriously than most and had studied the picture sufficiently well to recognize her while he was on front-door duty. Jones was impressed.

The news sent the unit scrambling to the parking garage and into the surveillance van to head down to Drummonds. Peter debated leaving Neal behind in the office but decided that it was probably best to have him where he could keep an eye on him. As soon as they were within a couple of blocks of the bank they slowed down to avoid drawing attention to the previously speeding van. Once parked Jones donned a white set of overalls and a clip board and sauntered over to the security guard for a signature and a clandestine update before going into the bank. Inside he let the manager know that the undercover operation was underway and that they should let it play out so as to arrest the women with the cash.

For her part, the woman still sat at the café, now seemingly engrossed in a book. According to the guard she had been there an hour in all. Jones came back to the van to give Peter and the other agents the update. Peter noticed that Neal hung back by the door and was fidgeting uncomfortably. It was no secret that Neal hated being cooped up in the van and as the minutes ticked on he became more and more agitated. Finally the woman rose from her seat and put the book into her oversized purse. They watched as she pulled on her gloves and started across the street to the bank. The manager kept them updated via their live feed as to her progress. She waited patiently in line until her turn before presenting a cashier's check for $8,000. It was surely no coincidence that she opted to join the line in front of the youngest looking teller. The manager had warned all three tellers what was happening and had given them strict instructions to act normally and cash out the check without incident. Despite her nervousness the teller remained calm and followed protocol exactly. Her heart was thumping as she handed over the envelope with the cash and gave the obligatory, "Have a nice day!"

"Okay everyone, standby." Peter warned as the woman started toward the door of the bank. As he glanced over his shoulder van Peter realized Neal was gone. No sooner had he said, "Damn it Neal!" than all hell broke out. The fire alarm went off in the bank and the sprinklers went on. People started screaming and running for the door, the guard drew his weapon and was frantically scanning the crowd. The agents burst out from the van and Peter ran toward the guard yelling, "Hold your fire, no shooting, put your weapon away!" There were far too many civilians in the way here and he didn't want to risk any innocent people getting hurt. He ran into the bank searching the lobby for the woman, but she was gone. Diana and Jones came in to join him.

"Nothing out there, Boss." Diana reported. "As far as I could tell she never left the bank."

Frustrated, they looked through the restrooms and every office before sitting down with the manager to watch the security footage taken from inside the bank. They saw the woman come in and wait in line, just as the manager reported. But as she moved forward to the desk revealing the person in line behind her, the agents let out a collective groan.

"What?" The surprised manager asked.

Together they intoned, "Mozzie."

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><p><strong>TBC<strong>

**I appreciate your feedback; please take the time to review this chapter/story.**


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: **White Collar belongs to USA Network and Jeff Eastin.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 6<strong>

By the time they had watched all the security footage, Peter was beside himself with anger. As the woman moved forward to the teller they saw that behind her stood a short man wearing a baseball cap pulled down low to successfully obscure his face. They all knew who it was. Then as the woman started to leave the sprinklers went off and a panicked frenzy broke out. The man calmly approached the woman, took her by the elbow and all the while talking to her he walked her into the back area of the lobby and disappeared from sight. The exterior cameras picked up the story and showed the couple exiting the building and getting into a waiting taxi which drove off down the block and turned out of sight.

Peter stormed out of the bank and back to the van with Diana and Jones in tow. Neal was sitting inside but got up quickly as Peter strode in and grabbing him by the suit lapels slammed him against the cabinets that lined the van.

"Ow!" Neal exclaimed indignantly.

"Where the hell did you go to?" Peter demanded.

"I couldn't stand being in the van any longer, I just went into the café to use their restroom and when I came out your were all running around yelling with your guns out so I came back inside. Peter, you always tell me to stay out of the way when guns are drawn, so I did."

"No, Neal that's not good enough. I don't believe you had nothing to do with all this."

"Peter, I assure you I was not involved in robbing this bank." It was the worst thing Neal could have said. The whole team knew how he twisted words around so that technically he wasn't lying but he wasn't disclosing the truth either. However, it was his tone of voice that sent Peter over the edge. It was too smooth, almost condescending, although he had not intended it to be so. He had been so scared that they would catch the woman and he had tried to hide his fear behind the sneering tone of voice.

Peter's eyes burned with fury as he slapped Neal hard across his face. Diana and Jones both gasped in shock and then stood in stunned silence, staring at Neal. A red imprint of Peter's palm started to appear on Neal's left cheek. His eyes widened in horror and filled with tears. It only seemed to infuriate Peter further.

"No, don't you dare cry Neal. You don't get to make me the bad guy here. What just happened was a felony and you will bring this entire team down because of your selfishness."

He slammed Neal back again and then let go of him. Peter was breathing hard and put his hands on his hips as his chest heaved up and down. He continued to glare at Neal. For his part, Neal was knocked speechless. He opened his mouth to answer but then closed it again as his bottom lip started to tremble and the tears that had been balancing on his long lashes spilled down over his reddened cheeks. He slid down to the floor and drew his knees up to his chest resting his forehead on them and covering his head with his shaking hands.

"I didn't Peter. I swear I didn't do anything. Please, please believe me." He sobbed, his shoulders heaving.

But Peter was having none of it. He bent down and grabbing Neal's suit again he dragged him back up and spun him round to face the cabinets. He pulled out a plastic zip tie and cuffed Neal's hands behind his back. "Cowboy up Neal!" he growled as he turned him back around and then thrust him into Jones' arms, almost toppling the taller agent over.

"Jones, take him to the holding cell back at the Bureau. He can stay there until I get back and _do not_ let him out of your sight. Diana, get a hold of that cab driver and find out where he took them." Peter barked, all the while getting paler as his anger increased. He roughly reached into Neal's pockets and retrieved his cell phone. He glared at the hapless conman one final time before hissing at him, "I will see you when I get back!" Then he left the van slamming the door hard behind him.

Neal swayed slowly before collapsing onto the floor in a dead faint.

"Shit. You've done it now Neal!" Diana cursed as she turned him over and then sat down beside Jones as he started up the van. Even as Neal came to he watched them both but knew better than to say anything.

They drove back to the White Collar Crime Unit in complete silence.

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><p><strong>TBC<strong>

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	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: **White Collar belongs to USA Network and Jeff Eastin.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 7<strong>

Peter decided to walk to Neal's apartment to see if he could find anything incriminating there while Neal was safely locked up and unable to destroy evidence that might link him to the day's events. He needed the fresh air to help clear his head and the time to calm his nerves. He would most likely lose his job over this, but more worrying to him, Diana and Jones were probably going to be lucky if a major demotion was the worst that happened to them. Hughes might get to stay but his reputation would take a major hit as he had backed Peter on several occasions when he came under fire for bringing Neal onboard at the White Collar Crime Unit. But the fallout from the operation gone bad was not his only cause for concern.

Even though his anger was nowhere near dissipated he was already feeling deeply ashamed of having lost control and hit Neal. The sound of the slap kept ringing in his ears and Neal's shocked expression replaying in his mind. He had never hit anyone like that before and although he knew he had had good reason to be furious at Neal he would never be able to justify his actions to himself.

When he reached June's house he was surprised to find himself there. He had been so absorbed in his thoughts, it seemed as though he had only just left the scene downtown. Luckily he had had his own key to the building for some time now and he let himself in, hoping not to run into June as he still felt considerably out of sorts. He went immediately upstairs and into Neal's apartment. Everything was as they had left it after cleaning up after Neal's meltdown the previous evening. He sat down on the sofa and took stock of the past 24 hours. A wave of exhaustion washed over him and he leant his head back and closed his eyes, unable to process anything more. It was a good hour later when he awoke with a start.

His body somewhat rested he got up and poured himself a glass of water before sitting down at the table. Immediately he remembered Neal's cell phone and retrieved it from his jacket pocket. Neal's last call had been to Mozzie, a text he must have sent while they were en route to the bank.

_We're headed to the Drummonds Bank downtown to take a Con down. This is someone I need to protect. What can I do Moz? _

Mozzie's reply had been immediate and to the point.

_You do what Peter tells you to do. _

A few seconds later Mozzie had texted Neal again.

_I'm serious Neal, do not intervene._

Peter was stunned. A sickening feeling started to wind its way through his gut. Had Neal really not been involved? He'd felt bad enough about hitting Neal before reading the texts but he felt ten times worse now. He groaned inwardly as he put his elbows on the table and rested his head in his hands. He felt a headache coming on at speed and got up to look in Neal's bathroom for painkillers. He found some in the medicine cabinet and while taking a couple of them he heard laughter coming from downstairs. It snapped him back to reality and he felt an immediate urgency to get back to the FBI building and take care of Neal. As he left the apartment and went downstairs he heard June's laugh again and then froze at the sound of Mozzie's voice teasing her, "June, did you even read this book?" followed by more laughter from them both.

Horrified, Peter turned toward the lounge where the conversation was coming from as June looked up at him, waving him over with a smile. "Peter, what an unexpected surprise! Is Neal home also? I'll have him come and join me as my dear Mr. Haversham is tearing apart my critique of our book club choice this month." June and Mozzie were sitting together on a sofa. The table in front of them was taken up with (empty) cocktail glasses and copies of _The Help_. Mozzie nodded at Peter, greeting him with his eponymous "_Suit_."

Now Peter was seriously confused. Mozzie was clearly the wrong side of several Tom Collins' yet he had watched him on the bank security footage not three hours earlier.

"When did you get here Mozzie?" He asked, nervously.

Mozzie laughed and replied, "Peter, I haven't left. After breakfast June and I decided to spend the day together as it was our book club day. Is everything okay with Neal? You look concerned." Peter placed Neal's cell phone on the table.

"But your texts to Neal …"

"He didn't do something stupid did he?" Mozzie asked, with genuine concern.

"Well I thought he had. I thought you both had. You weren't at Drummonds Bank today at all?"

June put her hand on Mozzie's knee and fixed Peter with a slightly tipsy smile, "I can vouch for Mozzie. He's correct in saying he's been with me all day. Why are you asking? Has something happened concerning Neal?"

Peter looked at them both mournfully. "Yes, something happened. But it wasn't Neal who did something a stupid, it was me. I'd better go and see if I can right the mess I've made. I'm sorry Mozzie, I saw someone very like you today and I put two and two together and made five. I must get back to the office and see Neal right away." Looking thoroughly miserable and bid them farewell before heading out to catch a cab back to the Unit.

Mozzie watched him go with mixed feelings. He was relieved that his plan had gone smoothly but felt for Peter too. It was true that he had been at June's house all day but what he hadn't mentioned was the time he'd spent after breakfast setting things in motion for finding the woman. His _colleague_ Ryan was to tail her from whichever bank the women next hit. They had already anticipated that it would be one of the smaller downtown banks. When Neal texted him about Drummonds Bank he had immediately called Ryan back and changed the plan to instead have him get her out safely while Mozzie used Neal's computer to hack into the bank's system to activate the fire alarms and sprinklers. It had been quite a feat pulling it off at such short notice and it helped considerably that Ryan bore a striking resemblance to Mozzie. It was a dirty trick to play on someone who had essentially become a friend, but although he liked and dare he say even _admired_ Peter, a _suit_ was a _suit_ and Neal's wellbeing had to come first.

Mozzie had pulled Neal out of his past years before and it had been a long and arduous struggle. He was not going to let it reclaim him now. He knew that when it came down to it, Neal was nowhere near as self-sufficient as he so carefully portrayed himself. Over the period of their friendship he had outgrown Mozzie physically but he would always remain his _little_ brother. He really did feel bad for poor Peter but Neal would always be his priority. He shrugged inwardly …

_Sorry Suit_.

* * *

><p><strong>TBC<strong>

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	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: **White Collar belongs to USA Network and Jeff Eastin.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 8<strong>

Peter arrived back at the White Collar Crime Unit with a heavy heart. However, he didn't go straight down to the holding cells to get Neal out. Instead he opted to speak with his boss, Assistant Director Reese Hughes. Despite his earlier conduct Peter was professional enough to know that he was too invested in Neal, to see the wood for the trees. He needed to step back and listen to Hughes' far more experienced opinion about what was going on.

As he walked through the agents' bullpen Diana greeted him quietly and then dropped her gaze to the files on her desk. She was very fond of her boss and while she and her fellow agents had wanted to smack Neal on countless occasions themselves she would never have expected Peter to be the one to do so.

"Is Jones still with Caffrey?" Peter asked her.

"Yes, I took them coffee a while back and gave Jones his files to be reading through while he waited for you to get back."

"Thanks Diana. I'll go down after I speak with Hughes."

Of course, Hughes had already got wind of the situation with a couple of ill-intentioned calls from his senior colleagues goading him about his team giving rides to criminals to help them get to the scene of their crimes faster. He had seen Diana return alone and now watched Peter as he came in and spoke with her. He looked so miserable that Hughes made a mental note to go easy on him despite the severity of the situation. Peter nodded to him as he came up the stairs and joined him in his office.

"Better close that door behind you, Peter" He cautioned to the special agent. Peter did so and then sat down on the other side of Hughes' desk, letting out a deep sigh.

"Let's get on with it." Hughes said in a comforting tone of voice. "Tell me the whole story and we'll see what can be done to sort things out."

Peter filled him in on everything that had happened from the initial staff meeting in the conference room to his conversation with June and Mozzie. Hughes' raised an eyebrow as Peter described Neal's bizarre behavior the previous evening but made sure he kept his face expressionless when Peter told him about the incident in the van. He regarded Peter as his best agent and pretty much above reproach. He knew that Peter would be beating himself up enough without adding to his discomfort. When Peter had finished Hughes sat silently for a few minutes digesting the information.

Finally he got up and went out of the office, motioning to Diana with the two-finger _come here_ wave. She immediately complied and joined them, hovering in the doorway. "Come in and close the door please, Agent Berrigan. Tell us what progress you've made since this afternoon."

Diana had been hard at work since returning. She had spoken with the café owner, who confirmed Neal's account of his whereabouts. She had also tracked down the cab driver and he had given a statement that he had been booked over the phone and had taken the couple to Central Park. They had paid cash and given him a generous tip. He hadn't even heard the bank alarms because he had been sitting listening to _Car Talk_ on his ipod. He said that the couple had seemed calm and pleasant, and he had had no reason to suspect anything was amiss. His cab cam gave a clear picture of the woman but nothing usable on the man whose face had been hidden by his baseball cap. Diana had taken the cash for analysis but it had no prints other than the driver's. She had even tracked the call made to book the cab and it had been from an unlisted disposable cell phone. Hughes and Peter were both impressed with how much she had done.

"Peter, do you think Neal was telling the truth or not?" Hughes asked.

"At the time, I was convinced he was lying but having spoken with June and Mozzie and now with Diana's report, I'm inclined to believe him. Of course Mozzie could be involved without Neal knowing about it, but now I'm not so sure about that either." He gave Diana an update on his visits to June's. Diana looked concerned at his account of Neal's meltdown the night before and very surprised when he related today's conversation with Mozzie and June.

"But it looked so like Mozzie on the video feed. I have a copy now by the way, if you want to review it again." She offered.

"Yes, I would like to see it for myself." Hughes said. "Peter, why don't you get Jones up here and Neal, too? I'd like to see his reaction when he watches it. Let's meet in the conference room in half an hour, I expect you'll want to speak with Neal privately first."

Diana went back to her desk to burn a disc with the footage and then headed out for lattes. Perhaps they would ease the tension in what was sure to be an awkward meeting. Peter went downstairs to let Jones off babysitting duty and to try and make amends with Neal. Jones looked mightily relieved when Peter arrived. He reported that Neal had not said a thing the whole time other than to ask for some water when they first arrived. He gathered up his files and quickly left to go back upstairs. Peter motioned for the guard to unlock the cell and went inside to sit down beside Neal who had only briefly glanced up at him when he had got there before dropping his head back down to stare at the floor in front of him. His expression was grim.

Neal was still cuffed and Peter immediately took out a pocket knife and sliced the plastic cuffs open. He noticed Neal's wrists were red and as soon as Peter released him Neal hid his hands in his pockets. Still he did not look up. Peter hesitated to touch him but then decided to go ahead and placed an arm round Neal's shoulders. Neal didn't pull away. Peter took this as a good sign. _Okay, here goes._

"Neal, I am truly sorry for hitting you. Whether you were involved in what went down or not I had no right to strike you like that. I don't know what came over me. I have been so worried about you since yesterday and I am terrified that you are about to make a monumental mistake regarding this woman and end up back in jail. We both know you wouldn't survive a month there this time around. Please, I don't know what is going on with you but something is really wrong here. Don't shut me out now, even though I'm sure your trust in me has plummeted since I hurt you. I need you to tell me who this woman is and what you know about what happened at the bank today."

Neal gave him a sideways look before turning away. He tried to wipe his eyes without Peter seeing but when he felt Peter squeeze his shoulder he couldn't sustain his composure and he dropped his head into his hand. Even though he had no idea what had happened he did suspect Mozzie's involvement given that he had texted him about the operation. He just felt so relieved that Peter was no longer angry at him that he could not be mad at him for hitting him. He felt the life he had created for himself crumbling down around him and wanted nothing more than to just sit here. Peter made him feel safe; something that had been a rarity in his life. An overwhelming tiredness came over him and he leaned into Peter, trying to calm himself down enough to speak coherently.

Peter sat silently and kept his arm around Neal protectively until the younger man's breathing returned to normal.

"I don't know how it all went down today, Peter."

"I saw your texts to Mozzie. Do you think he's involved?"

"I don't know. If he is, you know I can't rat on him. Anything he did would have been to help me. So let me take the fall for it Peter."

"Do you know the woman?"

"I don't know her name."

"That's not what I asked, Neal."

"Maybe."

"Maybe?"

"I knew her. A long time ago." Peter took this to mean she was an accomplice in Neal's criminal past. "Can you let it drop for now, please Peter?"

"You know I can't Neal. Did you ever commit a crime with her?"

Neal looked Peter straight in the eye and whispered, "Yes."

_Finally, a straight answer. Was that so hard?_

"So, what was it? Art theft, forgery, bank fraud, the music box?" He looked at Neal expectantly. But his partner was staring at the ground again. Neal swallowed and opened his mouth to speak but then closed it again. He cleared his throat and turned back to Peter.

_Come on Neal, keep going, tell the truth_.

Peter tried to keep his expression neutral while internally willing Neal on. When Neal finally responded Peter immediately wished he hadn't done so."

"Murder."

* * *

><p><strong>TBC<strong>

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	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: **White Collar belongs to USA Network and Jeff Eastin.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 9<strong>

Peter's mind was reeling. He couldn't believe what he had just heard. Neal was still looking down so he couldn't gauge his expression. He was eerily still and all color had drained from his face.

"Murder?" Peter questioned, hoping against hope that he had misheard Neal.

"Murder."

Peter was at a loss for words. He wanted to know everything and yet he wanted to know nothing. He hestitated, but then the agent in him took over and he carried on.

"Who did you murder?"

"A man."

"You're telling me that you murdered a man, with the woman from the bank?"

"Maybe."

"Maybe?"

"It may not have been her. It was a long time ago. She looks a lot different."

"But you think it is her don't you? You've thought it since you first saw her picture, am I right?" Peter continued.

"Yes."

"Hang on, you told me at June's that night that you had never killed someone during any of your art crimes."

"It wasn't during another crime. Killing him was the crime."

"How did you kill him?"

"She hit him in the head with a rock and then I shot him in the chest as he lay on the ground."

"You shot an unconscious man?"

"Yes."

"What with?"

"His rifle."

Peter could not fathom any of this.

"What happened? Was there a struggle, was he shooting at you? Neal, please explain this to me."

Neal continued in the same quiet expressionless tone of voice that he had used so far.

"No. There was no struggle. He was unconscious when we found him. She tried to kill him with the rock but he was still breathing so I shot him."

"Neal are you saying that you executed him?"

"Yes."

"Then what did you do?"

"We hid his body."

Peter sat in stunned silence looking at Neal. Sometime during the conversation he had taken his arm from around Neal's shoulders. He couldn't remember when and he faltered now unsure of whether to put it back or not. He was repulsed by the idea of Neal killing someone in such a brutal way but Neal's somber demeanor led him to think there must be more to this scenario than he was admitting. He just could not imagine Neal taking part in a professional hit.

For years, literally, he had begged Neal to tell the truth about his past and now that he had done so he had immediately withdrawn his support. If ever his friend needed him it was now. His hand hovered above Neal's shoulder for a moment then came to rest. Neal immediately exhaled and his body slumped under Peter's touch. He turned his head to meet Peter's gaze. Something about his expression caught Peter by surprise. He looked so young, so vulnerable, so innocent ….

"Neal, how old were you when you killed this man?"

"Eleven."

* * *

><p><strong>TBC<strong>

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	10. Chapter 10

**Disclaimer: **White Collar belongs to USA Network and Jeff Eastin.

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><p><strong>Chapter 10<strong>

_Man, I did not see that one coming!_

Peter's cell phone buzzed, jolting them both back to reality. It was Jones letting Peter know that everyone was ready to view the video again.

"We're needed in the conference room now." Peter stood up waiting for Neal.

Neal leapt up suddenly, looking panic-stricken. He grabbed Peter's arms, and pleaded, "Please don't tell anyone what I told you!" He had shocked himself by revealing so much to the FBI agent, who would surely want to investigate the matter.

"Neal, you've just confessed to murder."

"No, no, no, Peter. Please, I've never told anyone about it. Not even Mozzie. No one else has to know. Peter please!" Neal's eyes were wide and fearful, and his voice had become unnaturally high pitched.

It was true that he had never spoken about what had happened. He was furious at himself for having said anything. He had literally forced himself to forget about his childhood. It had been almost two decades since he had last woken up screaming for help. All those nights with Mozzie trying to calm him down seemed a lifetime ago. The perfect life he had created for himself had crumbled somewhat when he had been arrested but he had remained Neal Caffrey, debonair conman and lovable rogue. He couldn't go back to how it had been before and once people knew his secret they would see him as a victim and he couldn't stand that. Even as his thoughts raced he could feel the old fear creeping back. His stomach tightened and he was visibly shaking. He had to stop Peter from telling anyone else!

Peter watched in alarm as Neal slipped back into that glazed look he had had at June's. He could tell that Neal was on the verge of losing it.

"Neal, calm down. Please let's just make it through this meeting and then we'll talk, okay? We both know that you will not be prosecuted for anything that you did as a child. But we have to discuss it. You can't just drop that kind of information on me and expect me to ignore it. I won't say anything to anyone else until you and I have spoken about it further, I promise."

Neal was still clutching his arms, his fingers digging deep into Peter's flesh. _Damn it Neal, you're hurting me!_ He watched Neal closely, relieved to see him drift back to some semblance of normal. Neal released him, surprised that he had been holding him and mumbled an apology while he brushed down Peter's sleeves. The phone buzzed again and Peter put his hands on Neal's shoulders, meeting his gaze.

"Neal, I am here for you, buddy. You are not going to have to deal with this alone, okay? Just hang in there until this meeting is done and I'll get you home. Can you do that?"

Neal nodded silently. Peter's heart went out to him; he looked so tired and washed out. _Eleven years old, what the hell happened to you Neal?_ Peter knew that they had a long road ahead of them and he sighed sadly, not wanting to think about what Neal must have gone through that would lead him to do such a thing. He put his arm around the younger man and guided him to the elevator. He looked down to see Neal's hands still shaking and noticed the red welts on his wrists where the zip ties had been. The zip ties that he had put on him while so full of anger and judgment. He was embarrassed to realize how tight he had put them; they must been painful. Shame flooded through him as it dawned on him that Neal had put his hands in his pockets to hide the marks from him, so that Peter wouldn't feel bad about what he had done. As the elevator went up he took Neal's hand in his and gently rubbed his wrist. Neal looked startled and pulled his hand away, shoving it into his pocket and out of sight again.

"Neal, I really am so very sorry. Please forgive me."

"It's okay Peter, I've lived through worse." _I bet you have._ Peter thought to himself; now more determined than ever to help Neal.

_I bet you have._

* * *

><p><strong>TBC<strong>

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	11. Chapter 11

**Disclaimer: **White Collar belongs to USA Network and Jeff Eastin.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 11<strong>

Peter watched in awe as Neal morphed back into _Neal Caffrey_. By the time the time the elevator reached the twenty-first floor a fully restored Criminal Consultant swaggered out. There was no semblance to the young man who had been falling apart just minutes earlier. To say that the transformation was impressive was an understatement. It was mind-blowing.

By contrast, Peter was completely wrecked. He trailed after Neal, his mind spinning with the revelations he had just become privy to. As they entered the conference room Hughes gave him a questioning look but he just shrugged his shoulders in reply. Diana and Jones both looked surprised to see Neal looking so chipper but reckoned that Peter had apologized and all was well between them. They took their seats and Diana pressed the remote to start the video clip of the Drummonds Bank.

Neal watched the screen intently while the four FBI personnel watched him even more intently. When it had finished they all looked at him expectantly.

"What?" he asked, a smile playing on his lips. _Oh yes, Neal Caffrey was back all right!_

He knew what they wanted to know, of course, but he was not willing to give it to them on a platter. They were going to have to ask him. Frankly, he was amused that they were so easily fooled. So much for all their fancy degrees; they needed to go back-to-basics.

"Neal!" Peter warned.

Neal looked around at the group and with a sly grin said simply, "Mozzie is right-handed."

And with that he got up and left the room, leaving them all feeling somewhat foolish. Peter started up, ready to retrieve his smug friend but Hughes put his hand on his arm to stop him.

"So right now, we have nothing concrete to put Neal or his partner in the bank?" Hughes asked Peter.

"No sir, nothing." Peter replied. It was true, in a Caffreyesque way of speaking. Of course, there was plenty to connect him with the woman since their conversation downstairs, but nothing to suggest he was involved directly with the incident at Drummonds.

"And this is definitely not his friend, Mozzie?" Hughes continued.

Peter remembered the half-sloshed Mozzie he had encountered at June's.

"No, it was not Mozzie." He concluded, somewhat relieved.

"Okay then. Let me know when you have something more solid to go on." Hughes sounded irritated as he arose and returned to his office.

Peter dismissed Diana and Jones with instructions to dig deeper. As they left they heard Hughes call out, "Peter, a word in my office please."

Peter walked into his boss's office and sat down. There was no way that Hughes was taken in by Neal's apparent innocence but he was not prepared to divulge Neal's confession to him just yet.

"So if it walks like Mozzie and it talks like Mozzie… " Hughes words hung in the air like an oncoming storm cloud.

"It was something to do with Mozzie." Peter finished for him. "I don't know how he did it, but yes, I'm sure he sent him in to warn her."

Hughes hadn't been fooled for a moment but Peter was grateful that he was obviously willing to cut them slack with this, for now anyway.

"Peter, don't let Caffrey drag the whole Unit down with whatever this latest escapade of his is all about. Don't let him out of your sight until you have it all sorted out. Put him back in lock-up if necessary. I will keep the heat off until you get the case resolved. It would have been easier if the press didn't like a bank job so much. I want this over ASAP, is that clear?"

"Yes, sir." Peter replied wearily.

"You okay Peter?" Hughes asked, concerned.

"Yes, sir. Believe me, I want to see this all gone too." Peter said, hoping it would be, but doubting that he'd ever see the end of it. Getting the woman was going to be the easy part. Dealing with Neal long-term, well that was a different matter altogether.

He returned to his office world-weary and sat at his desk, looking out over the agents' bullpen below. Diana was staring at her computer screen with rugged determination, her fingers flying over the keyboard. It was only a matter of time before she dug something up. Jones was leafing through the case file, his brow furrowed in concentration. And Neal, well Neal was just sitting at his desk, playing with his damned elastic band ball, seemingly without a care in the world. Peter watched him, counting the minutes until the young man could resist the temptation no longer.

Nonchalantly he perused his co-workers before sliding the desk drawer out to look down at the picture of the woman.

As though he was suddenly aware of being watched Neal looked up guiltily. As his eyes met Peter's he blushed and hastily pushed the drawer closed.

"_Here we go."_ Peter sighed as he got up and putting on his jacket, headed downstairs.

"Let's call it a day people." He announced.

Stopping in front of Neal's desk he pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling a migraine creeping on. "You, you're coming with me."

Neal got up without comment and followed Peter to the elevator. As they entered he looked over his shoulder and noticed Hughes standing behind his desk, watching them.

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><p><strong>TBC<strong>

**I appreciate your feedback; if you are following this story please take the time to review it.**


	12. Chapter 12

**Disclaimer: **White Collar belongs to USA Network and Jeff Eastin.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 12<strong>

Peter and Neal rode the elevator to the parking garage without a word. It was clear to Peter that Neal had finished his performance and was doing everything he could to now hold himself together. As soon as they entered Neal had moved as far from him as was possible in the enclosed space. He leant against the wall, his arms _and_ legs crossed. It didn't take a degree in psychology to read the body language. _Stay Away!_

Elizabeth was the touchy feely one and Peter felt extremely uncomfortable. He was praying they would make it to the car before the floodgates opened. He had comforted Neal as best he could earlier and it had seemed to help Neal at first, but from the second they had exited the holding cell Neal had become increasingly distant, figuratively and literally.

_Just get him into the car. Just get him into the car._

When the car locks beeped Peter let out a gasp. He hadn't realized that he was holding his breath. Never had he been so soothed by simply sitting back in his car seat. As he switched on the ignition he let out a long sigh, the purring engine accompanying him. He looked over at Neal who had strapped himself in and then leant his head against the cool glass of the side window, his eyes closed. The stretched seat belt only accentuated how he was separating himself from his partner.

Peter knew Neal would put up a fuss but he needed to be upfront with him about what was going to happen.

"Neal, you're coming home with me. We'll stop by June's so you can get a change of clothes for tomorrow but then you're spending the night with Elizabeth and me, okay buddy?"

"Okay." Neal replied quietly.

_Shit! What do I do with that? Difficult Neal, argumentative Neal, challenging Neal; those I can deal with. Quiet Neal, cooperative Neal, compliant Neal; these I cannot deal with._

Oh, how Peter longed to be back in his own home, back with Elizabeth and Satchmo. He knew that once he was in Elizabeth's arms he would be able to make sense of everything. He'd get back in control of the situation and know what to do.

The next moment they were at June's, seemingly in the blink of an eye. Neal didn't object to Peter accompanying him upstairs and watching his every move as he packed an overnight bag. Fortunately, June was out of town, so they didn't have to communicate with her. She would undoubtedly have wanted to question them about how Neal was and they were both secretly relieved that she was not there.

The drive to Peter's was just as nerve-racking with both men holding themselves so tight, terrified that the slightest communication would bring the walls tumbling down. Peter all but ran into the house when they arrived. He told himself it was so that he could warn Elizabeth about Neal's emotional state, but the reality was that he needed to feel her touch to restore his own equilibrium.

He'd updated her before leaving the office so she knew what had been going on with the Walker case, so it wasn't a surprise that Neal would be staying over. Neal often stayed in the guest room if things ran late or started real early. He had spent time with them while recuperating after being shot during an undercover operation and of course there were the nights after Kate's death when he was in no fit state to get back across town. They didn't even refer to the it as the guest room any more, but instead called it _Neal's room_.

So when Neal walked in with his belongings she had expected the worse, but instead _Neal Caffrey_ was back on form and greeted her with a bright smile and a casual, "Good evening, Elizabeth." She hugged Neal and received a peck on the cheek as per usual, shooting Peter a puzzled look over Neal's shoulder as they embraced.

"Dinner will be ready in ten minutes. Why don't you boys change out of your work clothes and join me in the kitchen?" She suggested cheerily, as Neal headed straight for the guest room and Peter flopped down on the sofa and rubbed Satchmo's head.

"That bad, uh?" she asked Peter, sitting down beside him and taking his hand in hers.

"Yup, that bad. He's been flip-flopping between 100% closed down, or totally on point."

"How about you?" Elizabeth said with a sympathetic look, "How are you holding up?"

"Well, I still feel like a complete heel for hurting him the way I did. But I am just so worried about what he'll do I want to keep him locked away some place safe until I can set everything to rights."

"Oh, hon. You can't take on all that. We've been through worse with Neal. It will all turn out fine in the end."

"Hmmm" was the best response Peter could muster. _Let's see if the outlook is so rosy once she knows about the killing._

Just then they heard the shower go on in the guest bathroom and Peter went to get into his sweats, although not before Elizabeth had held his face in her hands and given him a big kiss. His mood started to lift immediately. If only he could bottle that feeling and keep it with him all day!

As soon as he was changed, Peter looked in on Neal to see if he was ready for dinner. The door was ajar and swung open to reveal the young man, already in pajamas, curled up on top of the bed, his back to the door.

"You awake buddy?" He asked softly, inwardly hoping Neal was already asleep.

"Yeah. I'm really tired though Peter. Could you tell Elizabeth I'm going to pass on dinner and go straight to sleep?"

"No problem. Listen, Neal, I need you to stay put here all night. No phone calls, no midnight excursions. I'm setting your tracking anklet to the house only and I don't want you trying to contact Mozzie, okay?"

"Okay."

_Here we go again._

"And Neal, I know what I said about us talking before I speak to anyone else about what you told me happened when you were a kid. But you know I have to tell Elizabeth, don't you? I can't keep her out of something like this."

Surely Neal would object to his telling Elizabeth. Peter recalled the terrified look Neal had had as he begged Peter to keep quiet. Neal made no secret of the fact that he adored Elizabeth and Peter could not see him agreeing to anything that might tarnish her opinion of him. Not that it would. Elizabeth's maternal instincts always kicked into overdrive where Neal was concerned. On more than a few occasions Peter had actually felt jealous of Neal when Elizabeth was all too quick to forgive his transgressions and only see the good in him. It was more than likely that Elizabeth would react to this information by mothering him even more.

Neal did not respond but Peter couldn't leave the question hanging.

"Neal, please can I tell her?"

The response brought him no relief from his building anxiety and it took all his will power to bite his tongue and leave Neal in peace.

"Okay."

* * *

><p><strong>TBC<strong>

**I appreciate your feedback; if you are following this story please take the time to review it.**


	13. Chapter 13

**Disclaimer: **White Collar belongs to USA Network and Jeff Eastin.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 13<strong>

Dinner was a somber affair. Peter told El everything that Neal had revealed about the killing in between eating and long silences, while El thoughtfully digested the information. Finally, they both gave up on the meal and, taking the wine with them, moved back to the sofa.

"I was watching Oprah the other day and she had 200 men on the show that had been abused as children. She made a comment that really shocked me; that many victims of abuse would rather die than reveal what had happened to them. What would push two young children to kill a grown man? It's the girl I'm thinking about most. Taking a rock to someone's head, that's so personal. It seems like it wasn't just about killing him but about wiping out his identity." She looked over at Peter for his reaction.

"Well, shooting someone up close with a rifle is not pretty either. To have had the presence of mind to check if he was dead and finish him off rather than running away at the first sight of blood, I agree, it seems very personal. God El, I feel really nauseous right now. This is exactly why I did not get involved with the child crimes unit. I don't have the stomach for it. It makes my blood boil to think of anyone hurting a child."

Peter's face was now flushed with both emotion and the wine he'd been consuming during the conversation.

"If he did something to them, El, I hate to say it, but I'm with the kids on this one. He deserved what he had coming. I know I lecture Neal on seeking justice and not revenge but it doesn't seem so clear when we're talking about child abuse. Eleven: it's so young. Are they even in junior high at eleven?"

"No, I don't think so. Graham's son is eleven, and he's in the fifth grade. He's still a baby," Elizabeth replied sadly.

She thought of her nephew, Evan. He didn't even have pimples yet. His world was full of Harry Potter and playing tag at recess. Her niece was a year younger but seemed more mature that Evan. She remembered her brother laughing about how boys were much slower to mature. _Slow starters, fast burners! _He had joked to her. Yet, there was Neal at the same age killing someone, while Evan still needed help getting two socks that matched. She sighed.

"So how are we going to play this? What are we going to do with Neal?" Peter asked.

"Honestly, I don't know, hon," Elizabeth replied despairingly. "From what you say, I'm worried that Neal will take off if we push him on it. If you're the first person he's talked to about this in twenty-odd years, it must be traumatizing to even be revisiting it. I think we're going to have to play it by ear and follow his lead. That he trusts you enough to have said anything speaks volumes about how he feels about you, Peter. I wouldn't be offended by his trying to distance himself. It must be terrifying revealing something that's been kept hidden for so long. Just be there for him and wait for him to bring it up. Give him space to feel safe enough to open up again."

"But what if he doesn't, El? He must be feeling like his world is about to collapse. If I were him I would be battening down the hatches."

"Looks like he is already, but with this Walker case, if the woman is the girl he knew, he's not going to have a choice in the matter. He's going to have to face his past. And we all need to be ready to give him a safe place to fall," Elizabeth answered wisely.

They cleared away the dinner dishes in silence, and then Elizabeth went upstairs to get ready for bed while Peter took Satchmo for his evening walk. The fresh air was a welcome respite from the heavy atmosphere he felt in the house. Elizabeth was right of course. Despite his natural instinct to root out all the wrongdoing, he was going to have to rein in his curiosity and let Neal set the pace. He only hoped that there would be time for him before the next bank incident. Maybe the woman had been spooked by the last job and would go to ground. Peter hoped so. The banks could easily weather their losses; eight thousand apiece was nothing to them.

_Listen to yourself, Peter_. He chided.

_Not so black and white now is it?_

Just a few hours ago he was all set to see this woman behind bars, and now he had to admit part of him admired her bravery and was already rationalizing her behavior as the result of someone else's actions. That's the problem when life gets in the way. The gray shades appear, and it's not so easy to feel self-righteous. Now, he wondered if it had been him and Elizabeth, instead of Neal and this woman, what would he have done? Of course, he knew fine well what he would have done.

He'd have picked up that rifle and taken that shot, no doubt about it.

* * *

><p><strong>TBC<strong>

**I appreciate your feedback; if you are following this story please take the time to review it.**


	14. Chapter 14

**Disclaimer: **White Collar belongs to USA Network and Jeff Eastin.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 14<strong>

All was quiet in the Burke household when Peter and Satchmo arrived home. Peter settled the dog down with clean water and a biscuit for the night and then headed upstairs to Elizabeth. She was sound asleep, a book open on the bed beside her. He picked it up, put her bookmark in place for her and set in on the bedside table. He showered and got ready for bed before checking in on Neal, who was snoring quietly, still curled up on top of the covers. Peter pulled a quilt out of the dresser and gently laid it over his partner. As it touched his shoulder, Neal stirred slightly and scrunched down underneath so only the top of his head was visible. Satisfied that his friend would me warm enough for the night, Peter returned to his own bedroom and snuggled up to Elizabeth. He loved her smell, and melted into the back of her neck, feeling her hair move on and off his face as he breathed in and out. He felt a familiar wave of comfort sweep over him and relaxed for the first time that day. Sighing contentedly he reveled in the knowledge that he had six more hours of bliss next to his wife before he had to wake up. Within four breaths he was fast asleep.

Two hours later, Neal's scream sent Peter and Elizabeth rocketing out of bed in a total panic.

The noise was so breathtaking, so visceral that they were both completely disoriented. Peter grabbed his gun from the bedroom safe while Elizabeth retrieved the baseball bat from under the bed. They tumbled over each other and headed downstairs, both thinking that Satchmo was the source of the anguished cry. Two steps down Satchmo charged past them as another piercing scream emanated from the guest room. In the same instant they exclaimed, "Neal!" and turned back to race toward the gut-churning sound.

Satchmo was beside the bed, barking wildly but Neal seemed to be completely unaware of him. He was kneeling on the bed, eyes wide in terror fixed on the opposite wall. Instinctively Elizabeth called out to Neal and his head snapped round to face her. His mouth opened in horror, and he pointed at Peter, the whites of his eyes growing even larger in the glow of the hall light.

"_Girl!_" he screamed at Elizabeth, "He's right behind you, run!"

His voice was unnaturally high-pitched and he sounded so young that Elizabeth faltered for a moment, unsure as to what to do.

"Run, Girl. Run, now!" Neal screamed again, reaching out both arms toward her.

Elizabeth stepped toward Neal and, without thinking, Peter followed her.

Neal gasped and flattened himself on the bed and half-ran half-crawled backwards, falling off the side of the bed and onto the floor. As Elizabeth ran around the bed to him he pushed himself up on his knees and grabbed her by the wrists, pulling her to him. Elizabeth yelped in surprise and pain as she fell down beside Neal. Immediately he pushed her against the wall and sat in front of her, pinning her in place while he flailed his legs out wildly at Peter who was trying to free Elizabeth.

"Get away, get away, get away!" Neal screamed as he kicked Peter so hard in his shin that he fell over, yowling.

Elizabeth could barely breathe, but she desperately croaked, "Peter, put the lights on. Quick!"

If felt as though Neal was about to push her clear through the sheet rock and into the next room. She could not believe how strong he was. Any movement she made just gave him more room to squeeze back into her. He turned around and covered her with his body, putting his hands up on the wall behind her. His breath was harsh and ragged and his chest was heaving as though he were also having difficulty breathing.

The instant the light came on Neal sprung back from Elizabeth, as if he'd been electrified, and landed with a sickening thud on the floor at the far end of the bed. It looked to her as though someone had yanked him from behind, but Peter was still standing at the door, his hand on the light switch. If Peter and Elizabeth hadn't witnessed it for themselves, they would never have believed a person could more through the air like that. Satchmo whined and buried himself under the bed.

Neal lay there curled up with his hands over his head, trembling and silent. The silence was more terrifying than the screaming. Even though she could see him moving Elizabeth was so shaken that she asked, "Is he dead?"

She looked over to Peter and tried to get up but found herself rooted to the floor. Cautiously Peter edged passed Neal and held his hand out, pulling Elizabeth up and into his arms. She could feel Peter's hands shaking as he held her and then gently maneuvered her behind him and they stepped back around to the other side of the bed.

"Go to our bedroom. Take Satchmo with you and lock the door behind you." He whispered to her.

Elizabeth started to speak but Peter put his fingers to her lips. In doing so he became aware that he was no longer holding his gun. He had dropped it when Neal kicked him and now he looked about desperately to locate it. His gut tightened in fear as he saw it lying just inches from Neal's hands. There was no telling if Neal was spent or about to leap into action again. He was caught between needing to get Elizabeth away from harm and going for the gun. He turned back to his wife and mouthed, "_Go!_"

He watched as she silently backed away, her eyes locked on his. Satchmo had wriggled out from under the bed, and walked beside Elizabeth, his body pressed against her leg. "Come on buddy," she whispered as she bent down and pulled him into her bedroom with her. He looked back mournfully at Peter, reluctant to leave his master unprotected.

As soon as he heard the bedroom door click shut Peter turned back to Neal. He crept over him and ever so slowly reached down to get the gun. He could feel his pulse thumping against his neck and sweat dripping down his back. Neal didn't move at all, other than the shaking, and Peter slowly let out his breath in relief as he picked up the gun, stepped back over Neal and quickly padded back to his own bedroom. He tapped on the door and as Elizabeth opened it he pressed the gun into her hands.

"Lock this away now, before one of us gets hurt."

He couldn't bear the thought that they had come so close to someone getting shot in the mayhem. If Neal had got hold of the gun in his state of mind he would surely have shot Peter, maybe even Elizabeth, on accident. Elizabeth closed the door and he heard her opening the safe and putting the gun inside. She joined Peter out in the hall as he stood looking over at Neal and wondering what to do next.

"I'm afraid to touch him in case I set him off again. He looked like he was about to have a heart attack in there." Peter said as their shoulders touched.

Elizabeth slipped her hand in his. "I've never heard screams like that before. It was like something out of a horror movie, only much worse. I can still feel my heart pounding."

Peter turned to his wife drawing her toward him, protectively putting his arms around her.

"Are you hurt?" he asked as he stroked Elizabeth's hair.

"More shaken up, although I'm sure I going to have some ugly bruises come morning." She reached up and put her hands on either side of Peter's face with a concerned expression.

"What about you? That was one hell of a kick to your leg. I thought he might have broken it."

Peter reached down and pulled up his pajama leg to reveal an enormous bump. It looked strangely unreal, as though he had had a golf ball transplanted beneath the skin. A deep purple bruise had already started to form.

"Wow, that actually looks as bad as it feels!"

"Oh, hon. Should I get you an ice pack?" Elizabeth asked as she covered her mouth in shock.

"No, not now. I want to get Neal sorted out first."

Peter stepped back into the room and went over to Neal. He was no longer shaking and his hands were now on the floor beside his face rather than over his head. His breathing was back to normal and he looked for all the world as though he were just taking a nap on the floor. Cautiously Peter crouched down beside him, wincing in pain as he bent his leg. He gently placed a hand on Neal's shoulder and shook him a little.

"Neal, buddy. You okay?"

"Hmmm?" Neal replied groggily.

"Wake up, Neal. It's Peter. You okay there?"

Neal rolled onto his back and squinted up at Peter. Slowly he turned his head to look around the room, stopping as his gaze fell on Elizabeth who was standing in the doorway. He gave her a sleepy smile and then turned back to Peter.

"Did I fall out of bed?" he asked, half-awake.

"Yeah, something like that. How about you get off the floor and we all go downstairs for some coffee?" Peter ruffled Neal's hair and smiled at him.

"Okay then." Neal replied pleasantly, blissfully ignorant of the chaos he had just caused.

Satchmo came trotting over to him and nudged his nose into Neal's hand. Neal laughed and petted him.

"I'm sorry, Satch. Did I wake you up?"

Elizabeth laughed at the understatement and moved over to squat beside Neal who had pushed himself up so he was sitting against the dresser. She held his hand and kissed him on the cheek.

"That's nice." Neal said dopily. "Do I get one from you too, Peter?"

"No, no kiss from me, Neal." Peter laughed, and pulled his friend up from the floor.

"Okay then." Neal repeated in the same sing-song tone of voice.

Peter smiled and put his arm around him as he guided him out of the room.

"How did I get over there?" Neal asked as they headed toward the kitchen.

"Long story, bud. Let's get that coffee first, huh?" Peter replied.

"Okay then."

Elizabeth giggled as she reached for the coffee pot.

* * *

><p><strong>TBC<strong>

**I appreciate your feedback; if you are following this story please take the time to review it.**


	15. Chapter 15

**Disclaimer: **White Collar belongs to USA Network and Jeff Eastin.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 15<strong>

In the time it took for the coffee to brew, Neal had snapped back into _Neal Caffrey_ mode. He apologized profusely for waking the household and asked to be let back to June's, but Peter refused. He genuinely seemed to have no recall about anything that had occurred upstairs or about the previous episode at June's and appeared very uncomfortable with the idea that he was not in control of himself.

"Neal, do you remember what you were dreaming about?" Peter asked anxiously.

"I don't remember a thing," Neal replied evasively. Of course, he knew what it was from how Peter described his behavior, but he was being truthful when he said he couldn't recall the actual dream. He was hoping Peter would let it go at that, but Peter was not willing to give up so easily. Although he had agreed to let Neal talk to them in his own time, he felt that things were unraveling too quickly, and these episodes would only get worse. He wasn't proud of what he did next but he knew it would provoke some kind of reaction from Neal.

"Neal, last night you really frightened June and tonight you hurt Elizabeth."

"Peter!" Elizabeth looked furiously at Peter.

For his part, Neal looked horrified. He was close to tears as he turned to Elizabeth.

"Elizabeth, I'm so very, very sorry. I didn't realize. What did I do?" he pleaded.

Elizabeth was mad at Peter for saying it but realized that he was trying to shock Neal into talking. She put her hands on Neal's face and tried to console him, but he pulled away from her and stood up, moving away from the table.

"I'm so, sorry Elizabeth. Please, I didn't mean to hurt you."

He started pacing back and forth, rubbing his hands through his hair, his expression one of total despair.

Peter got up and took him by the arm, leading him back to the table and making him sit down. He knew this was the time to get Neal to talk, before he got too upset or shut down. He looked over at Elizabeth apologetically, but her anger had clearly dissipated and, instead of frowning at him, she gave him an encouraging nod.

"Neal, what happened to you when you were a child that led up to your killing that man?" Peter asked.

"Please, I don't want to talk about it. I've forgotten it all years ago and I want it to stay that way," Neal pleased.

"But Neal, sweetie, it's coming back to you whether you want it to or not. These dreams, they were about things that have happened, weren't they?" Elizabeth asked gently.

"I suppose so," Neal grudgingly agreed.

"I think that the nightmares are only going to get worse until you address your past," Elizabeth added thoughtfully. "Have you ever talked to anyone about it?"

"No."

"Not even Mozzie?" Peter asked.

"A little, but that was years ago and he never pushed me on it. Mozzie's had it rough himself, and he could tell I wanted to forget and move on."

"Do you really think you can just forget something like this, Neal?" Peter continued.

"I did. I really did, Peter. I haven't thought about it in years. Honestly." Neal sounded so anguished that Peter couldn't help but put a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"What about the girl? Can you tell me her name at least?" Peter suggested hoping it would be a starting point.

"I don't know her name," Neal replied honestly. "I think I knew it at some time, but I always called her _girl_."

Peter and Elizabeth exchanged a puzzled look.

"What did she call you?" Elizabeth asked.

"_Boy_."

"And the man, do you recall his name?" Peter asked.

"We never knew it. We had to call him _Sir_. We didn't think to find out after we killed him."

Peter had no doubt that Neal was telling the truth. They had been through countless conversations where Neal would avoid the truth through some kind of linguistic gymnastics, and Peter was well aware of his evasions. This discussion was different, like the brief exchange in the holding cell when Neal had told him about the killing. He sounded weary, as though he had no reserves left to lie with.

"Why did you _have_ to call him _Sir_?" Elizabeth asked, confused.

"It was his house, and he said we had to follow his rules."

"Neal, was this man your father?" Peter asked.

"No."

"A relative?"

"No."

"A foster parent?"

"No."

Peter shot Elizabeth an exasperated look. She could tell he was getting impatient to solve this puzzle and decided to take a different route.

"Neal, how did you meet this man?"

"We were walking home from school, and he stopped and told us to get in the car." Neal mumbled, staring at the table.

"And then what happened?" Elizabeth continued.

"Then he took us to his house." Neal put his elbows on the table leant his forehead on his hands. He closed his eyes, although not before a tear slipped out and dropped to the table. Elizabeth looked aghast at Peter, who was doing his best to keep control of himself. He could feel his stomach tightening.

"Neal, are you saying that this man kidnapped you and the girl?" Peter asked, a sick feeling welling up in his gut.

"Yes."

"And you were eleven when this happened?"

"No."

"How old were you?"

There was a long silence. Neal stifled a sob, but didn't reply.

Peter felt like they had reached the point of no return. He couldn't let Neal stop, even though it was clearly painful for him to continue. Elizabeth, feeling the same way, looked at her husband and mouthed, "Carry on."

"Neal, how old were you when the man kidnapped you?"

"Five."

* * *

><p><strong>TBC<strong>

Thank you to everyone who has reviewed this story or added it to their alerts/favorites. I am having a hard time going forward with it and the feedback has been an encouragement.

Thank you **_lstuds_** for the beta graft work.


	16. Chapter 16

**Disclaimer: **White Collar belongs to USA Network and Jeff Eastin.

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><p><strong>Chapter 16<strong>

Peter's immediate response was panic. _Had Neal and the girl been sure that they had killed the same guy? After all it was six years after he had kidnapped them. Had they recognized him and gone after him? _He had to know that they hadn't made some awful mistake.

"Neal, are you certain you killed the right man? After six years how could you be sure it was him?"

Neal lifted his head and looked at Peter, with a puzzled expression.

"Of course it was him. Who else would it be?"

"Well five is very young, Neal, and after six years of not seeing him you could have mistaken someone else for him."

"But we saw him every day." Neal still seemed confused.

"Oh, god!" Elizabeth exclaimed and immediately covered her mouth with her hand. Her eyes were wide as she stared at Peter in horror.

Peter didn't understand what Elizabeth had just come to realize. She took Neal's hand and softly asked.

"Neal, are you saying that you and the girl were held by this man for six years before you killed him?"

Peter looked at her aghast before turning to Neal for confirmation.

"Yes."

It was one simple, small word, but it completely changed everything that Peter had ever believed or felt about his friend. On a good day, Neal was a lovable rogue**, **a smooth conman with a heart of gold. On a bad day, a selfish brat who could infuriate Peter and leave him feeling mad or jealous, ready to throw the younger man back in supermax.

For a moment Peter thought he might faint, he could hear his heartbeat and the room started to tilt, but he managed to pull himself together before it took him over. He looked back at Elizabeth and saw that she was crying. Both hands were now over her mouth. Neal, having withdrawn his, rested his head on the table again. At a complete loss for words, Peter put his hand on Neal's back.

If he thought this would be a comfort he was mistaken. Neal gasped at the contact and immediately shrank away, pushing himself closer to the table. Peter quickly withdrew his hand and watched horrified as Neal began to breathe in rasping gulps. Suddenly he sat upright, panicked and grabbing at his throat, pulling his tee shirt away from his neck as he struggled to breathe. Neal's eyes started to water, and he was clawing at his shirt, his face growing red as he tried desperately to take in air.

"Peter, I think he's having a panic attack!" Elizabeth yelled as she jumped up and ran to the pantry. She grabbed a brown paper sandwich sack and pushed her fist into it, then crushed the top around her fingers to make a hole for Neal to breathe into. She guided it onto Neal's mouth and nose while holding the back of his neck.

"Neal, sweetheart, try to breathe into this," she instructed in a trembling voice.

Peter looked on helplessly as Neal unsuccessfully tried to catch his breath. Finally, with one huge gasp Neal pushed his head against Elizabeth's hand, his eyes rolled back until only the whites showed, and he passed out. Peter caught him as he slumped down in the chair and hauled him onto the floor.

"Open the back door!" He instructed as he dragged Neal over the kitchen floor in an attempt to get him closer to some fresh air. He laid him flat and pulled up his tee shirt to see if he was breathing while he put his other hand to Neal's neck, checking for a pulse.

"Is he breathing, I don't see his chest moving?" Elizabeth asked, her voice rising in panic.

"I don't think so. I can feel a pulse, but it's very faint"

Peter quickly stripped off his own tee shirt and, balling it up, put it under Neal neck so that his chin was tilted upward. Then he bent down with his cheek next to Neal's mouth but couldn't feel any air coming out. He opened Neal's mouth then covered it with his own. Pinching Neal's nose, he breathed deeply into the young man's mouth. He pulled away and watched Neal's chest rise, then fall before giving him another breath. Neal remained unresponsive. Peter tried again and, on the third repetition, Neal gasped and started to breathe for himself.

Peter sat back on the floor, leaning against the opened door. Elizabeth looked at him and smiled lovingly.

"Peter that was amazing!" she said in awe.

Peter smiled back wanly, exhausted as the adrenaline gave way to the shakes. He had to admit he had impressed even himself. He caught Neal under the arms and lifted him into a seated position, pulling his tee shirt down and leaning him against Elizabeth's comforting arms while he put his own shirt back on.

Neal opened his eyes and seemed surprised to find himself in Elizabeth's embrace.

"What did I do now?" he moaned.

"Nothing sweetheart. Everything's fine," Elizabeth cooed as she pulled Neal closer, still looking at Peter in admiration. "Let's call it a night and get you back up to bed."

Together they walked Neal back and tucked him in. Peter dragged the recliner from their bedroom into Neal's while Elizabeth brought him a quilt.

"I don't need a babysitter!" Neal said in an offended tone.

"Oh yes you do, buddy." Peter laughed, in relief. "I'm not leaving you here, so you'd better just settle down and go to sleep."

Neal huffed and turned onto his side, facing away from Peter. He heard Elizabeth kissing Peter and then going back into their room. He would never admit it, but he felt a huge comfort at knowing Peter was in the room with him. He closed his eyes and within seconds Peter could hear him breathing heavier as he drifted off to sleep.

_God only knows what's in store next. _Peter thought to himself as he too fell fast asleep.

* * *

><p><strong>TBC<strong>

Thank you to everyone who has reviewed this story or added it to their alerts/favorites. Thank you also **_lstuds_** (aka _Comma Queen_) for the beta graft work.


	17. Chapter 17

**Disclaimer: **White Collar belongs to USA Network and Jeff Eastin.

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><p><strong>Chapter 17<strong>

When Neal awoke he was shocked to see that it was already passed nine o'clock. The recliner was empty save for the quilt but he could hear Peter's voice rising up from the kitchen below. He surmised that Peter must be on the phone as he could not hear Elizabeth. Judging by the smell of coffee and bacon, she had already been up and left for the day. Neal knew that Peter always snuck bacon onto the skillet when Elizabeth was not around, as it was definitely not on her list of healthy foods for her husband.

While Neal showered and dressed, Peter continued his phone conversations with Diana. After last night he an Elizabeth had agreed to not ask Neal anything else about his past. The whole _not-breathing_ thing was a deal breaker as far as Peter was concerned and he did not want to go through that again. While he was not willing to traumatize his friend further by bringing up his past he was dying to move on with this story. He would just have to take a more circuitous route.

"Diane, I want you to go through the facial recognition sites for missing and exploited children. Go back to 1975 and see if you can find anything on our mystery woman. Run Neal's mug shot too and see if that throws up anything."

"Why on earth would Neal be on there, Boss?" Diana inquired.

Peter was not willing to divulge anything Neal had told him so far, but there had to be some record of Neal and the woman. Two kids just couldn't disappear for six years without a paper trail. He doubted that they would find anything under the name Neal Caffrey but the facial recognition might yield something.

"He says he knew the woman when they were children, so you never know, maybe there will be a link out there." Peter answered somewhat vaguely.

Diana was not convinced. "But Neal's never been missing, Boss. Why would he show up on those databases?" she persisted.

"Just do it, Diana!" Peter barked, more harshly than he had intended. The drama and lack of sleep were taking their toll on him. "Sorry Diana. I didn't mean for that to come out quite like that."

"No problem boss. I'll run the woman first and then start looking for Neal. I can't hold out much hope given all the work you did trying to track him down when he was on the run. You never found anything going back beyond his teens."

Now Peter had some idea why they hadn't come up with any history for Neal. He had been off the grid for six years and who knew what the story was after that. Mozzie would be his next lead, but as Neal had appeared in the kitchen Peter would have to postpone any conversation with Mozzie until he had Neal busily occupied on something else.

"Morning!" He greeted Neal brightly, as he flipped his phone closed, and passed him an empty coffee mug.

"I see you're not on the Elizabeth Burke slim and trim regime this morning." Neal smirked as he surveyed a pan of sizzling bacon.

"I won't tell if you won't." Peter promised as he helped himself to a slice and folded it between two pieces of toast.

Neal poured himself some coffee and joined in the elicit feast. It was hardly Italian roast and French croissants à la June's but it was certainly delicious. All the more so as it was forbidden food and Neal loved nothing more than to break the rules, especially this early on in the day!

Once they had finished, they made sure the skillet was cleaned and put away. Neal laughed out loud as he noticed Peter rearranging the bacon slices left in the packet so as to disguise the missing slices. Peter had the good grace to blush upon being caught in his deception.

"That looks very well practiced Peter." Neal remarked teasingly.

"Yeah." Peter replied bashfully. "It doesn't always work. If Elizabeth works out I gave Satch a slice too there will be hell to pay!"

"Glad to see your relationship is founded on honesty and trust!" Neal goaded.

"Okay, okay. Give me a break. I was up all night babysitting. I deserve some slack!" Peter joked without thinking.

Immediately the smile was wiped off Neal's face and his expression clouded.

"About last night, Peter. I'm really sorry. I …" Neal stammered.

Immediately regretting his words, Peter cut him off. "No, Neal. Don't say any more. Neither Elizabeth nor I are upset with you. I didn't mean to sound flippant just now. You really mustn't apologize any more. Let's let it drop, for now at least, huh?"

Neal looked relieved and just nodded, quickly turning around and going back upstairs for his jacket. When he returned a couple of minutes later, hat in place, he looked 100% Caffrey. It was hard to believe what had gone on just hours before. Peter shook his head as he put his arm around Neal's shoulders and guided him out to the car.

"What?" Neal asked.

"You still look like a cartoon!" Peter replied, smiling.

"Bacon burglar!" Neal shot back as he got into the passenger seat and closed the door behind him.

Peter deliberately kept the journey into the office light. He chattered on about the evening's forthcoming baseball game and what strategy he wanted his team to follow. Neal rolled his eyes in not so mock boredom, making a mental note to ensure he went straight back to June's after work. As they pulled into the parking garage at the FBI building Peter noticed that Neal had grown quiet and was starting to fidget with his tie clip.

"You okay, buddy?" Peter asked.

Neal turned to him, putting his hand on Peter's forearm and looking his straight in the eye pleaded, "Peter, please don't tell anyone what's been happening, or anything that I told you. I don't want anyone to know, okay?"

Peter sighed and struggled to keep his expression neutral. He knew that Neal would not be able to cope with the idea of him or anyone else on the team pitying him. He and Elizabeth had talked some before she left this morning and had both still been shaken by Neal's revelations. They had decided to present a unified front of non-judgmental comfort in the hope that it would create a safe zone for Neal. They were in agreement that they would treat their younger friend as a survivor and not a victim. But as to where to go from there they were at a loss. Elizabeth felt they should encourage Neal to open up more whereas Peter felt so completely out of his depth he wanted to get Neal professional help. In the end, they had agreed to disagree and see how the next few days panned out.

"Neal, I promise. But you must agree to leave this case to me and do not go chasing after this woman. I will find her and bring her in. You must not interfere in any way and I do not want you contacting Mozzie about her. Is that clear?"

"Okay." Neal reluctantly agreed. Normally this would not have meant anything to him. Peter knew he would go ahead and do his own thing regardless. However, this time he was aware that he was not coping too well with all that had happened and he willingly handed control over to Peter.

As they exited the elevator on the twenty-first floor, Peter put his arm around Neal and walked him to his desk in the White Collar Crime Unit. "Stay there and go through the cold case files you started on last week. I've got work to do with Diana. And Neal, _no calls to Mozzie_."

"Okay _dad_, I got it." Neal whined, sitting down and grabbing the top file from the pile. "Geez."

Peter smiled and rested his hand on Neal's head for a moment before heading over to Diana's desk. She looked up with a smug grin. "I have news for you, boss." She announced.

"I knew you would. That's why you're my favorite!" Peter smiled back. "Give me a couple of minutes to get a coffee and then meet me in my office."

"Okay boss."

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><p><strong>TBC<strong>

Thank you to everyone who has reviewed this story or added it to their alerts/favorites. Thank you also _**lstuds**_ (_Comma Queen_) for the beta graft work.


	18. Chapter 18

**Disclaimer: **White Collar belongs to USA Network and Jeff Eastin.

* * *

><p>Thank you <strong>lstuds<strong> (_Comma Queen_) for the beta graft work.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 18<strong>

Peter was relieved to find a full pot of coffee when he stepped into the break room. Every time he attempted to make coffee it was a royal disaster. His last endeavor had resulted in Diana literally begging him to never do it again. Not only was it revolting, but he had overfilled the water container so the coffee overflowed, dripped down the electric cord and fused the whole circuit. In addition to ruining the coffee maker, the fridge-freezer defrosted, melting a birthday ice-cream cake for Jones.

Peter found a brochure for the American Barista and Coffee School on his desk the following morning, no doubt put there by Neal, who referred to him as _Java Joe_ until Peter had threatened to reduce his radius to one-mile. Peter poured himself a mug and was headed back upstairs when Jones passed him, on a similar mission.

"Once you've got your coffee, join Diana and me in my office**,**" he said to his agent.

"Sure thing, boss. Should I bring Neal?" Jones asked.

"No, not this time," Peter replied

"He's not in trouble, is he?" Jones asked, concerned.

"No, nothing like that. I'm just not ready to bring him in on this yet**,**" Peter answered truthfully. _Will I ever be ready? _He wondered.

Peter could hear his printer spitting out various pages, as he entered his office. Diana was already there**,** fanning out a series of 8x10 photos on his desk. The top-most one was clearly a school portrait photo of a young girl. _Pleasant View Elementary – Kindergarten 1987_ was printed along the bottom of the picture. Peter sat behind his desk and picked it up to study it.

Jones joined them, closing the door behind him and sitting beside Diana.

"Tell me you found our woman**,**" Peter said, looking at Diana.

"I found her." Diana smiled back at him.

She passed them both a black and white copy of a missing persons listing which had a smaller version of the same picture beside a computer generated facsimile of what she might currently look like. It was impressively close to the woman from the bank.

"Jennika Swenson, aged 6. Disappeared en route from Pleasant View Elementary School, Pleasant View, TX, April 4, 1987. Height 47in, weight 52lb, brown hair, blue eyes," Diana read aloud.

"Whoa," Jones interjected, "according to this the listing was posted this past November, that's a long time since she went missing to send out a search query."

"Yeah, I thought so too. The listing was placed by a Veronica B. Geyer. She doesn't appear to be a relative. It says she was Jennika's Kindergarten teacher from the year she disappeared. There's a contact number for her, but I didn't call it yet. I thought you might want to speak to her yourself, boss."

"Hmm," Peter murmured. His attention was focused on the byline below: _Last seen with fellow student David Gibson, aged 5 (see separate listing)._

"Oh, these are a riot!" Diana exclaimed. "You have to see these extra pictures. They were down as attachments, but I hadn't looked through them yet. I only just printed them out before I came up here. My printer ran out of ink, so I sent them and the other student's report up here. There's Jennika on the far left, front row."

Diana passed her set of prints over to Peter as Jones collected the others from Peter's printer, keeping one set and passing the other to Diana. They were date-stamped April 4, 1987 and showed about twenty-five kindergartners and their teacher sitting on bleachers in what appeared to be several failed attempts at getting a class photo.

In the first one, Jennika was sitting on the far most seat on the left, with the teacher standing to the outside of her. On her other side was a male student, but all that could be seen of him was the back of his short pants and his legs, as his torso was disappearing under the seat behind him. The kids near him were watching and laughing as Jennika appeared to be dragging him back by the seat of his pants.

In the next picture, he was turned around but was sliding off the seat onto the ground. Only his upper half was still on the chair, and his shirt had slid up exposing his belly. His arms were raised over his head, and he was holding onto the ankles of the child behind him. This time, Jennika was attempting to haul him back up by his belt, and the teacher was now also reaching over to the boy. At least half of the other students were laughing and looking over at the boy's antics.

The third photo had him mid-run as he was heading out of the picture. Jennika was bent over hanging onto his shirttail and the beleaguered teacher had both arms out as if she had attempted to get him and missed. All of the kids were now watching him and some had stood up for a better view.

The final picture had the same legend as Jennika's individual shot; _Pleasant View Elementary – Kindergarten 1987_ and was presumably the one used that year. The recalcitrant boy was now seated at the end of the row, firmly wedged between Jennika and the teacher, who were both holding his hands. The whole class was smiling and laughing. It looked like a perfect class photo.

Jones and Diana were laughing out loud and the noise had caught Neal's attention. Miffed that he might be missing out on something**,** he started to make his way up to Peter's office. The printer had just finished spitting out some more pages, and Diana went to get them.

"This is the listing for the other student who went missing with Jennika." She started to pass them around at the same moment recognition hit both her and Jones. Peter, of course, had already recognized Neal from the class photo.

"Oh my god!" Diana exclaimed, just as Neal walked into the office.

"Neal, is this you?" Jones asked, turning the picture around so Neal could see it. It was his individual portrait and looked exactly like a mini-Neal. In contrast to his disheveled state in the class photo, his hair was neat, and he wore a button down shirt and tie. The same shirt and tie that had become progressively undone in the class photos.

"I might have known you were the naughty boy in the class photos. You're adorable!" Diana gushed.

Neal looked at the picture with a horrified expression. Then glared at Peter as he grabbed the photos from his desk. Peter stood up with a panicked look on his face and started talking.

"Neal, this isn't what it looks like…"

But Neal was furious, he yelled at Peter, "You promised me Peter. You promised me you wouldn't say anything!"

"Neal, I haven't told them anything," Peter said, attempting to placate him.

Neal had now turned to Diana and was trying to snatch the photo from her hands, but she had lifted it up high and was laughing. Both she and Jones had been so taken aback at seeing the young Neal Caffrey that they hadn't realized that this meant he was also David Gibson, kidnap victim.

"What the hell's going on in there?" Hughes called from his office, and he started to come through to see what the cause of the commotion was.

Unable to get the picture from Diana, Neal had turned to Jones and taken the bundle from his hands and was tearing them up. Breathlessly he continued to yell at Peter, who was hastily shoving his copies into his desk drawer.

As Hughes entered the room, everyone halted what they were doing and turned to look at him. It was then that Peter saw the look in Neal's eyes and recognized in an instant that he was about to run.

"Jones, stop him!" he called out as Neal started for the door.

Jones caught Neal by the arm, but Neal pulled away from him and stumbled slightly. Jones managed to get him by the waist, but Neal struggled. Before Peter could reach him, he was off and running, knocking over the chair Diana had been sitting in. His legs got tangled in the chair and he half-ran, half-dived for the door. Unfortunately, Hughes was now partly blocking it and, in an attempt to get passed him, Neal overcompensated and clipped his right shoulder hard on the doorframe. Hughes caught him in his arms as Neal let out an agonized yelp and slumped toward the floor.

It was immediately clear that Neal had dislocated his shoulder. His arm hung limply, and he was yelling in pain. As Peter approached him, he scooted backward against the wall trying to support the dangling arm. His face had turned a ghostly white, and he seemed unaware of the tears streaming down his cheeks. Peter was now crouching down beside him with Hughes on the other side. Diana and Jones were standing, wide-eyed in shock. Diana unconsciously let the picture slip from her grasp, and it drifted down to the floor with a swish, coming to rest at Neal's feet. Everyone, including Neal stopped for a moment and stared at it, entranced.

Then Neal growled at Peter. "You had no right to have those! My past is none of your business. It's got nothing to do with what's going on now!"

Hughes put his hand in his pocket and pulled out a linen handkerchief. Calmly wiping Neal's tears away, he said sadly, "No Neal. You're wrong. It has everything to do with what's happening now. It always does."

He tucked the handkerchief back into his jacket pocket as they all stared at him. Even Neal was rendered mute. None of them had ever heard Hughes talk in such a grandfartherly manner before. He put his hand on top of Neal's head and sighed, then stood up, addressing the room in his normal terse manner.

"Diana, Jones clean this place up immediately! Peter, take Caffrey to the hospital and get that arm seen to. I expect a full account of what this was all about by the end of the day."

With that, he turned and went back to his office, leaving them all in stunned silence.

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><p><strong>TBC<strong>

Wow, over 100 alerts! Now I am starting to feel under pressure! Thank you to everyone who continues to join me on this ride, especially those of you who have taken the time to post reviews. I really appreciate the encouragement, even more so when I am having hard time getting the story down.


	19. Chapter 19

**Disclaimer: **White Collar belongs to USA Network and Jeff Eastin.

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><p><strong>Chapter 19<strong>

Jones, the team's best medic made a make-shift sling out of Neal's tie and then used his own around Neal's chest to keep it all stable on the way to the hospital.

"Sorry Neal, but you're going to have to wait until you get to the hospital for any pain meds. If you take anything now**,** they'll give you grief when you arrive if they need to do surgery." He tried to console Neal, who had turned deathly pale and was clearly in a lot of pain.

Meanwhile Peter printed out a copy of Neal's medical Power of Attorney and put it in his briefcase together with the case file and printouts which he surreptitiously retrieved from his desk.

Neal swayed with dizziness as Jones and Peter eased him from the floor, but they held him steady. Slowly, they walked him to the parking garage and lowered him into the car, which Diana had pulled up in front of the exit to the lobby.

"Do you want me to come along?" Jones asked his boss.

"No, I got it. You could give Elizabeth a call though and ask her to meet me at the hospital," Peter replied. "And Diana?" he continued, as he shut the door on Neal's side and motioned for her to come closer.

"Yes, boss?"

"Get in touch with this Mrs. Geyer and find out all you can about Neal and Jennika."

"Boss, I'm really sorry about how things went down. I had no idea that Neal was the other child until that final page came out. I was so surprised I just didn't think." Diana started choking up. She felt truly awful about what she had put Neal through.

Peter took hold of her arm and tried to offer her some comfort. "Diana, it is not your fault. The whole thing caught us all off balance. Please, don't feel badly. I have a sickening feeling that there's a whole lot more about to hit the fan with this case and right now we need to present a united front in support of Neal. I should have brought you and Jones into the loop on everything else I learned from Neal, but he'd asked me not to. I'm going to have a talk with him after we get his arm sorted out. In the meantime, the more you can find out, the better. Call me later, okay?"

"Sure," Diana replied, still not convinced that she hadn't been the cause of Neal's distress.

Peter walked around the car and opened the driver's door.

"You still with us, _buddy_?" he asked Neal, who had his eyes closed, his head resting on the passenger window.

Neal did his best to nod and gave a mumbled _uh huh_ as Peter knelt on the driver's seat and reached over to strap him in without causing too much additional pain. Neal groaned and winced as the strap tightened on his injured arm, despite Peter's best efforts.

"Hang in there. We'll be at the hospital in no time and, before you know it, they'll have you so full of happy meds you'll be ready to dance with all the pretty nurses," he joked. Neal opened one eye and gave him a dubious look.

"Got it, less humor – more driving," Peter said, more to himself than Neal as he patted his friend's leg and strapped himself in.

Driving as swiftly and smoothly as he could, he headed off to the Emergency Room. There was no point in using the siren, as he didn't want to risk jostling Neal around if he opted to speed from lane to lane in order to get there quicker. As it was, they made good time and within the hour he had Neal signed in and settled in an examination cubicle awaiting the orthopedic surgeon.

Peter was very relieved to hear Elizabeth's voice soon after, as he had not been relishing the thought of being Neal's sole support when examination time came. For someone who had been beaten, shot and had God only knows what else done to him, Neal could be a complete drama queen when it came to minor injuries. Not that a dislocated arm was minor, but he had watched Neal cope with a broken bone before with stoic quietness and then wail like a three year old while getting a splinter removed**. **He was hoping that Elizabeth's calming influence might make the whole thing go more smoothly and definitely more quietly. He pushed the curtain aside and went to join her at the nursing station, filling her in on what had happened at the office. Neal's doctor had also arrived and listened carefully before going off to attend to Neal, with Peter and Elizabeth in his wake.

"Boy, that's gotta hurt!" He exclaimed, as he looked Neal over.

Neal looked at the worried couple with a woeful expression. Peter didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Elizabeth turned to him and whispered fiercely, "Whatever you do, _do not _tell him to _cowboy up_!"

"No ma'am!" Peter replied, raising his hands in surrender. He turned to face Neal. "I am so sorry, _bud_. The best I can do for you now is let my wife kiss you better when they're through with you."

A kindly nurse ushered them toward the waiting room. As the door whooshed shut behind them, Neal's unmistakable cry rang out loud and clear.

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><p><strong>TBC<strong>

Sorry for being so slow in posting this chapter. I hope to be more timely with the next one.

Thank you to _**lstuds**_ for continuing to beta this story for me.


	20. Chapter 20

**Disclaimer: White Collar belongs to USA Network and Jeff Eastin.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 20<strong>

While they sat in the waiting room, Peter caught Elizabeth up on the latest developments and showed her the information Diana had gotten from the missing children's website.

At first, she laughed delightedly at the photographs and cooed over how sweet their boy was. It was hard not to. Neal looked like the Hollywood stereotype of a ragamuffin. Then the realization of just how vulnerable he and Jennika must have been set in, along with the horror of what was about to befall them.

"Oh, Peter," Elizabeth remarked sorrowfully. "This is so much worse than I had imagined. Look at Neal. He looks so small. In fact, he's a lot smaller than the other kids, especially next to Jennika."

"I know, I was thinking the same thing. If you read his information sheet you'll see he was almost a year younger than her, which explains why he was so much shorter and lighter," Peter said with a sigh. "And look at the dates. The school pictures were taken the same day they went missing. These must have been taken just hours before the kids were snatched."

Elizabeth ran her fingers over the lettering at the foot of the class photograph. Tears filled her eyes as she turned to her husband in distress.

"So essentially, this is a record of the last day of Neal and Jennika's childhood," she stated as the tears started to flow.

Her words hung in the air, weighing heavily.

Peter took her hand, unable to offer any comment to reduce the impact of the truth she had just spoken. He felt sick at the thought of what lay ahead for Neal and Jennika before that fateful day was over and for the years thereafter. He swiped angrily at his own tears before putting his arm around Elizabeth and pulling her in close to him. As they sat together for what seemed like an eternity, his resolve to help his partner through everything strengthened. By the time the doctor came through to talk with them, he was clear on what he had to do next.

"Good news!" the doctor greeted them cheerfully. "Your friend will make a full and speedy recovery. There was no serious damage done, and we relocated the arm cleanly. He's being moved up to one of the overnight rooms. He's not thrilled at the prospect of staying with us, but we had to pump copious amounts of pain meds into him, so he will have to stay for observation at least until tomorrow afternoon. I must say, he can put up quite a ruckus. I've never had to literally wrestle a patient before. Even with the arm out of place, he gave us quite the run for our money. You'll find him up on the third floor. Just follow the singing!"

Elizabeth and Peter both laughed, easily imagining what had gone on in the emergency room. They thanked the doctor and made their way up to Neal's room. True to the doctor's word, they could hear Neal as soon as they stepped out of the elevator on the third floor.

"Oh good grief!" Peter groaned, "The 50's Sinatra medley I can take but honestly, Duran Duran? This is awful!" He shook his head at his partner's thunderous rendition of _Hungry Like The Wolf_.

Thankfully, the performance ended immediately upon their arrival in Neal's room. He gave them his goofiest grin and motioned them over to the bed. He was propped up on several pillows, heavily bandaged and clearly even more heavily medicated. Various wires were attached to his chest and hand, recording his heart rate and oxygen levels. In addition, there was a drip stand next to him with a monitor attached to it. A tube ran from the fluid bag hanging on the stand to Neal's wrist with a wire running from the monitor to a handheld dispenser with a red button at the end. It lay on the bed next to Neal's hand. Clearly, this was for dispensing the meds, which were now coursing through the ex-con's veins.

Peter doubted that Neal should have been left in charge of such a thing but was grateful, as it was integral to his plan for getting Neal to talk more about his time with Jennika. He sat down on the same side of the bed of the morphine pump while Elizabeth took the chair on the other side.

"You're looking beautiful, Elizabeth," Neal cooed, while Peter rolled his eyes.

"Unbelievable, you're barely conscious, and you're still working the room!" Peter exclaimed.

"Well, the good-looking side of it anyway," Neal replied, giving Elizabeth a wink.

Peter let out a disgusted snort, while Elizabeth accepted the compliment with a slight blush.

"As I recall, Peter," Neal added. "You did offer your wife's services as solace. I believe I'm due a kiss."

"Hello boys!" Elizabeth chimed in with mock frustration. "Have we somehow gone back to the Middle Ages? I do have a choice in this matter you know!"

"No you don't." Neal laughed, giving her what could only be described as a leer. "A verbal contract was made and I demand my payment!"

"Glad to see you're doing so well, Sweetie." Elizabeth laughed, as she patted Neal on the leg.

Slowly, she opened her purse and removed her lipstick holder. With exaggerated deliberation, she opened it and liberally coated her lips in a rich coral lipstick.

"Okay, Romeo. Where do you want it, cheek or forehead?"

"No lips?" Neal pouted, giving her his best puppy dog eyes.

"Not a chance!" Elizabeth snapped back instantly.

"Oh thank god!" Peter exclaimed, laughing. "At least one of you has some boundaries."

"Cheek." Neal sighed reluctantly, pointing to his left cheek.

Not the side next to Elizabeth, Peter noticed, but the one on his side of the bed. He knew fine well that Neal had deliberately chosen the side closest to him, just to make him jealous. However, it provided a perfect camouflage, so he did not put up any complaint.

Obligingly, Elizabeth rose and bent over Neal to firmly plant a perfect lipstick kiss on his left cheek. As she did so, she caught a peripheral movement as Peter slid his hand over and pressed the morphine pump unbeknownst to Neal, who was giving out a melodramatic groan and clutching his chest. As Peter pushed the button the machine beeped, almost giving him away.

"What was that?" Neal asked, turning round to face Peter.

"That was the cardiac monitor," Peter answered immediately. "I believe your heart just skipped a beat!"

"Wow, Elizabeth. Your kisses really pack a punch!" Neal said with admiration.

"Know what else packs a punch? My right fist! You got your kiss, now knock it off!" Peter growled.

Neal reluctantly stopped trying to seduce his partner's wife. His eyes began to droop as the effects of the additional hit of morphine kicked in. Elizabeth was watching him curiously.

"Hmm, they're not that great." She mused, looking over at Peter.

Peter moved his eyes to indicate the pump, which lay on the bed beside him. Elizabeth let out a whispered gasp.

"Peter Burke, you just used me!"

Sometimes she got so caught up in Neal's charming web that she forgot that Peter was still the smarter of the two. He gave her a quiet smile and looked over at Neal who was humming gently to himself, barely aware that his friends were still there.

"How about you go have something to eat at the cafeteria, and then see if you can reach Mozzie and ask him to come here? Neal and I are going to continue our conversation."

"Oh, okay," Elizabeth replied sadly, her mood immediately sobering. "Are you sure Neal will be okay?"

"I honestly don't know, but I think this is the best chance I'll have of getting the full story out of him. I'm sure his reluctance to tell me what happened is partly driven by embarrassment. You know how important his image is to him. The drugs should take care of that, and if he gets panicked, well what safer place could we be? I'm not convinced that my reviving him the other night wasn't just a fluke. Anyway, I don't want to go through that again. I'm going to give it my best shot to get to the bottom of this today. How about a kiss for me too? I'm sure I'm gonna need it."

"Oh, Peter." Elizabeth gushed, "You're always my hero, _honey_."

She came around to his side of the bed and wrapped her arms around him, kissing him on the cheek. Then, turning his face toward her, she kissed him again on the lips. She ran her fingers through his hair before rubbing his nose gently with her own and looking into those brown eyes she loved so much.

"You'll do just great, I know you will," she said confidently, kissing him again before getting up and smoothing her skirt down.

"I'll text you when Mozzie gets here. Call me when you want us to come back up. You sure I can't get you something before you start?"

"No, _hon_. I've kindda lost my appetite. I'll get something when I'm done with Neal," Peter replied.

He watched Elizabeth leave. As she closed the door behind her, he scooted his chair in closer to the bed and tapped Neal gently on the back of his hand.

"Hey, _buddy_. We've got some talking to do."

Neal turned to look at him, with a sleepy expression. Peter took a deep breath and steeled himself.

"Tell me what happened that day, when you and Jennika were walking home from school."

It was over two hours later when Elizabeth's phone buzzed. It was sitting on the table amidst the various empty coffee cups and sandwich wrappers that she and Mozzie had accumulated since he got there an hour earlier. Despite his well-known fear of hospitals, Mozzie had come immediately when Elizabeth had finally gotten through to him. He apologized that he had been _otherwise engaged_ when she had called the numerous times before he eventually picked up, and she did not pursue just exactly what that meant. When he arrived, Mozzie had brought supplies for them both, explaining that it was safer than hospital food; _given all the germs in the air conditioning_. Elizabeth hadn't argued, as she was pretty hungry by then, having been too anxious to eat before Mozzie's arrival.

Surprisingly, Mozzie had not objected to Peter's strategy when Elizabeth had told him about it. He had long since given up on trying to fill in the blanks regarding Neal's_ missing years_ as he referred to them. On the rare occasions that he had gleaned something, Neal had always been so distressed that he had been unwilling to bring up the subject himself. After some small talk, he and Elizabeth had settled into a comfortable silence awaiting Peter's call. When it finally came, they were both jolted out of their reverie and rudely awakened to the fact that zero hour had arrived. It was with considerable reluctance that Elizabeth answered the phone and she looked over at Mozzie. He nodded encouragingly and Elizabeth switched on the speakerphone.

"Hey, _hon_," Elizabeth said, for once at a loss for anything more comforting to offer her husband.

"Hey," was his similarly bland response.

Mozzie motioned with his hand for Elizabeth to continue.

"Mozzie's here. Are you ready for us to come on up?" she asked.

"Sure. I'm out in the waiting room. There's no one else in here so it will be private."

"Can we bring you up anything to eat or drink?"

"No, I've no appetite. But I could use a coffee, a strong one."

"Okay, _hon_. See you in a few."

"Sure." Peter hung up.

"That didn't go so badly." Mozzie said soothingly.

"Oh, Moz. I can tell he's upset. I'm not sure what to do. I know he will have to talk to unburden himself, but I'm not sure that I can hear what he has to say."

To Mozzie's horror she burst into tears and buried her head in his neck. However, he rose to the occasion, patting her comfortingly on the back and making appropriate sounds. If he had coped with Neal's breakdowns in the past, he could cope with Elizabeth's. Once she had calmed down, Elizabeth was quick to pull herself together. Using the abandoned napkins on the table, she wiped her eyes and blew her nose. Then she drew herself up straight and checked her makeup, applying more of the lipstick she had used on Neal (and Peter) earlier.

"Thank you, Mozzie. I needed that. Let's go."

"Right behind you, Mrs. Suit." Mozzie quickly gathered up their garbage and took the tray to the counter.

They stopped at the coffee stand to get Peter an espresso and headed off to the elevator bank. When they arrived at the third floor, they walked passed Neal's room. Mozzie took a quick peek inside and found Neal snoring loudly.

* * *

><p><strong>TBC<strong>

Thank you to **_lstuds_** for your continued patience in beta reading.


	21. Chapter 21

**Disclaimer: White Collar belongs to USA Network and Jeff Eastin.**

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter 21<strong>

Peter was sitting in the waiting room with a look that could only be described as shell-shocked. He barely seemed to notice as Elizabeth bent down to kiss him and handed him his coffee. He put it on the table in front of him and it remained there, untouched until he finished recounting his conversation with Neal.

Elizabeth sat down beside Peter while Mozzie pulled up a chair to face them on the other side of the coffee table. He was unusually quiet as he stared at Peter with a concerned expression. Elizabeth, perhaps with subconscious forethought, took a handkerchief from her purse and started playing with it nervously. She looked expectantly at Peter, who seemed reluctant to speak.

Finally, Peter sighed and looked first at Elizabeth and then at Mozzie.

"I pumped Neal with the maximum amount of meds the machine would allow. Everything he told me could be construed as having been obtained under duress, so I will not be putting any of this in his file. I'll give an overview to Hughes and to Diana and Jones but not the details. That's for you two only and please, let's keep it that way. I don't know how aware he'll be on what he told me, but I'm pretty sure he would rather no one knew any of it. I'll tell him that I shared it with you guys, but unless he raises it, I am not planning on saying anything more to him. Are you both okay with that?"

Elizabeth and Mozzie both nodded solemnly.

"Mozzie, if you have any information to fill in the gaps can we keep it just between us also?"

"Of course, Suit. You have my word," Mozzie replied.

Normally, Peter would have been quick with some smart comment about just what the conman's word was worth, but this time things were different. He knew that Mozzie was just as concerned about Neal as Elizabeth and he were, maybe more so given his history with Neal, now that Peter understood better just what an enormous influence Mozzie had been on Neal's life.

Peter pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed again, unsure what to say next.

Elizabeth, picking up on his hesitation, took his hand and quietly said, "How about you just start at the beginning, _hon_?"

Peter turned to her and smiled, grateful for her prompting. Then he dropped his gaze to the table in front of him and began.

"The day of the photos, Neal and Jennika and a bunch of other kids were playing ball while they waited for the school bus. Neal kicked the ball over the fence next to the school yard and went to get it. While over there, he noticed some apples on the ground and stopped to fill his pockets. Just then, the bus came and their friends high-tailed it. They asked the driver to wait, and he did for a while but when Neal and Jennika didn't catch up, he left. The reason for the delay was that Neal's pants got caught on the fence as he wriggled back under because of the apples in his pockets. He managed to squirm out of his pants and took off running for the bus, but Jennika called him back to get dressed. By the time she'd pulled the pants free and got him back into them, the bus had gone. To this day, Neal is convinced that everything that then befell them was his fault for stealing the apples."

"Oh, no," Elizabeth moaned. "He can't take that out on himself. It was just a childish prank. He didn't even go over there with the intention of taking the apples. No way is he to be blamed for anything. You did tell him that didn't you, Peter?" she asked anxiously.

"Of course, repeatedly, but he refuses to see it any other way," Peter replied sadly.

Peter continued, "They started walking, eating apples and giggling at Neal sprinting after the bus _sans pants_. The journey home was not far, but at some point they became aware that a police car had pulled up beside them. Their first thought was that they were in trouble about the apples, and that the owner had seen them and called the cops. So when the officer told them to get into the car, they did exactly as they were told. It was quite some time before they realized that they were headed out of town and started asking where they were going.

"_You'll find out soon enough,_ was the only response they got, so they shut up and sat tight. Eventually they both nodded off, and when Jennika woke Neal, they were parked outside a farmhouse, in the middle of nowhere. The officer was out of uniform and leaning against a small well next to the car. He was drinking a beer and watching them through the open car door. Once they had both sat up, he ordered them out of the car and had them stand in front of the porch to the house. Neal said that he never wore the uniform again for as long as they stayed with him. Apparently, the next day he drove the patrol car away and came home with a station wagon."

Peter raked his hand through his hair and swallowed. Elizabeth and Mozzie were on the edge of their seats, both with shocked expressions.

"Do you think he really was a cop?" Mozzie asked.

"Neal doesn't know. He can't remember enough about his uniform to know if it was real or not. Neither he nor Jennika ever asked him about it. They just assumed he was," Peter replied.

Elizabeth _tsked _and shook her head in dismay. Peter squeezed her hand before continuing.

"The man had them wait there while he disappeared off into a small barn that was on the property. When he came back he had a dog with him, on a chain. He was also carrying a thick stick. In the middle of the property there was a concrete slab with a metal D-ring on top. He attached the chain to the ring and told the kids to come forward. He said that the dog had disobeyed him and so it would be punished. He then proceeded to beat the dog unconscious."

"The bastard!" Mozzie exclaimed. "What kind of _sicko_ pulls a stunt like that?"

"Neal said that at first he and Jennika were too stunned to do anything, but then the dog's eyes rolled back so they were just white, and Neal lost it. He started yelling at the man, trying to grab his hand. For this, the man backhanded him, knocking him to the ground. He says he can still remember face planting into the dirt, the taste of blood and mud mixing as he lost his front teeth on impact. It was the first time in his life that he had ever been hit."

As he said it, Peter remembered slapping Neal in the surveillance van just two days before. He suddenly felt overwhelmed with guilt at what he had done and put his head in his hands with a moan. Elizabeth immediately wrapped her arm around him and tried to sooth him. Both she and Mozzie were unaware of Peter's hitting Neal and assumed his distress was because of the story he was telling.

"Oh god. I hit him too, El," Peter groaned. "After all he's been through, I hit him too."

Elizabeth looked shocked and unconsciously drew away from him.

"What are you talking about Peter? You've never hit Neal," she said and then, when he didn't reply, added "Have you?"

Peter lifted his head and looked at her shamefully. He told her and Mozzie about what happened in the van, unaware that as he did so, he started to cry.

Elizabeth, although still shocked at the thought of Peter hitting anyone, let alone Neal, took his hand again.

"No matter what possessed you to hit him. What you did was nothing like what this monster did to him. You have to believe that, Peter."

"Oh god, _Suit_. This is all my fault. I promise you Neal had nothing to do with getting Jennika out of that bank. It was me. I am so sorry." Mozzie added woefully.

Peter wiped his eyes and looked at Mozzie. "No, Mozzie, it's not your fault. I should never have raised a hand to him. I don't know what came over me."

"I'm with Elizabeth on this one, Peter," Mozzie replied, for once using their real names. "You can't beat yourself up over it. Neal has clearly been through a lot worse than a slap from you and, knowing you, I am sure you have already apologized to him more than enough."

Peter was surprised and comforted that both Mozzie and Elizabeth were so quick to forgive him on what he regarded as a dreadful abuse of his position over Neal. It was true that it was physically nothing compared to what Neal had experienced. But it was the abuse of trust that he was sure Neal had felt so keenly. He vowed to never again lay a finger on his friend, no matter how much Neal might madden him.

"Tell us what happened next," Elizabeth said, wanting to get Peter's focus off the incident in the van.

"Next, the man gave them both shovels and made them dig a hole. They were so little and so scared, it took them the rest of the afternoon. Neal said that at that point he was still thinking he was about to be beaten as well to punish him for taking the apples. Can you imagine how terrified he must have been? When the hole was finally dug to the man's satisfaction, he went back to the car and returned with a rifle. Then he told them that if they ever tried to run away from him, he would hunt them down and kill them with that same gun. Once he'd finished threatening them he shot the dog and kicked its body into the pit. Then he set fire to it, and when that went out, he had them fill in the hole. He hauled the slab over the top, warning that this was where he would bury them if they ever attempted to escape."

Peter fell silent. He had intended to go on but the words stalled in his throat. He swallowed loudly and took a deep breath before stumbling through the final part of that first fateful day of Neal and Jennika's captivity.

"Then he left them there."

He looked up at Elizabeth and Mozzie, barely seeing them through his tear-filled eyes.

"They spent that night curled up together beside the slab."

The three of them sat is silence, the same image in each of their heads; the two kindergartners alone in the dark. As awful as that image was, thankfully none of them was aware of the full extent of the children's suffering. Even in his drug-addled state Neal had held back what he couldn't bear to tell Peter.

He hadn't revealed what else went into the pit and was burnt along with the ill-fated dog.

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><p><strong>TBC<strong>

Thank you **_lstuds_**for beta reading and fact checking.


	22. Chapter 22

**Disclaimer: White Collar belongs to USA Network and Jeff Eastin.**

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><p><strong>Chapter 22<strong>

"I think I need a break." Peter said, looking up. "It sounds like Neal is awake. How about we visit with him for a little bit and then regroup here so I can fill you in some more?"

Elizabeth and Mozzie, as eager as Peter for some relief from Neal's woeful tale, readily agreed.

In contrast to the gloomy atmosphere in the waiting room there was a distinct air of merriment winding its way over from Neal's nearby room. They all got up and followed the sound of girlish laughter. As they approached, four nurses spilled out into the corridor, amidst much hilarity.

"Typical." Peter snapped. "They go in, fully-trained professionals, and come out a bunch of giggling schoolgirls!"

On entering the room, the three friends were stopped in their tracks. Neal was a marked man; he lay on his bed, a huge grin plastered over his face. Elizabeth gasped and covered her mouth. Peter just gaped and shook his head. Mozzie was the first to recover.

"Oh, my. That's quite a number they did on you." He said, pulling a chair up close to the bed to get a better look.

Peter snorted his disapproval and sat on the seat in the corner. Elizabeth remained standing, crossing her arms. Peter was amused to see that instead of smiling back at Neal she was looking decidedly peeved. The nurses appeared to have taken their lead from her and had covered Neal in an array of lipstick kisses. His face, arms and chest were a myriad of pink and red hues.

"Please tell us those stops where the sheets begin." Mozzie groaned.

"I've no idea." Neal replied. "I woke up to catch the young ladies in the act, as it were. Care to check, Elizabeth?"

"Neal!" Peter barked.

Elizabeth ignored both of them and marched into the en suite bathroom. She returned shortly after with a box of tissues and a large bottle of cream hand-sanitizer. Sitting on the edge of the bed she pumped the lotion into her hand and then liberally applied it to Neal's face. Pulling a couple of tissues out of the box she started scrubbing off the offending marks.

"Ow!" Neal called out. "Be gentle! I am an invalid remember."

Elizabeth just glared at him and continued rubbing, not at all gently, Peter was pleased to see.

Neal looked to Mozzie for sympathy, but none was forthcoming. Mozzie just raised his eyebrows and sat smirking back at him, _Oh, you did it now, my friend. You angered Mrs. Suit!_

After five minutes of energetic make-up removal, only one kiss remained; a set of perfect scarlet lips enclosed Neal's naval. Elizabeth squirted a large blob of sanitizer into Neal's belly button before dumping the tissue box on his chest. Neal's gasped as the icy lotion hit his skin.

"You're on your own with that one!" Elizabeth hissed and went to wash her hands.

Neal miserably wiped the lipstick off, much to Peter and Mozzie's amusement.

"It seems the great Neal Caffrey charm has finally been thwarted!" Peter laughed as Neal shot him a glare.

"I hope you checked that that was alcohol-free. He's highly allergic." Mozzie warned as Elizabeth came back.

"_Now_ you tell me!" Elizabeth shrieked, turning around to inspect Neal, who was scratching at his neck.

"Something's stinging me." Neal whined.

As Elizabeth looked on in horror, his whole upper body started breaking out in tiny red pinpricks.

"Nice one Mr. H!" Peter remarked, slapping Mozzie on the shoulder as he got up to inspect Neal's reddening body.

"Really, you're each as juvenile as the other!" Elizabeth exclaimed in exasperation, setting off to find some medical help. As she headed toward the main ward she could hear Peter and Mozzie laughing.

A few minutes later Elizabeth returned to find Neal, close to tears, frantically rubbing at his skin. Peter had covered him with as many wet washcloths as he could find in the bathroom. Mozzie remained in his seat, smiling in a self-satisfied way, as if privy to some secret.

"Help's on its way." Elizabeth said to Peter (not to Neal, Peter noticed). "As soon as the doctor said Neal needed an oatmeal bath there was a near stampede. You should see it out there now; the nurses' station looks like the _Marie Celeste_."

Right on cue, the same gaggle of nurses appeared at the door, supplies in hand.

"Oh, what did she do to you?"

"You poor thing!"

"You'll be fine, as soon as we get you in the bath!"

"Yeah, I'm sure he will." Peter sniped, before picking up his briefcase and heading for the door. "I for one am not sticking around to witness this." He huffed as he left for the waiting room.

Neal looked over at Mozzie. "Thanks, Moz Man!" he winked.

Realizing that she had been set up for the second time that day Elizabeth let out a disgusted "Uurgh!" and tossing her head back in a manner unnervingly akin to _Miss Piggy_, she flounced out of the room, Mozzie firmly in tow.

"Any time man." Mozzie called over his shoulder, returning the wink.

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><p><strong>TBC - <strong>**I appreciate your feedback; if you are following this story please take the time to review it.**

Many thanks to _**lstuds **_for beta reading.


	23. Chapter 23

**Disclaimer**: White Collar belongs to USA Network and Jeff Eastin.

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><p><strong>Chapter 23<strong>

"Honestly, Mozzie. You're so indulgent of him!" Elizabeth complained. "And as for not telling me about his allergy, don't you think that was a bit dangerous? What if the reaction had been more serious?"

"You can rest assured, Mrs. Suit, I would never have done anything to cause Neal serious harm. Despite his predilection for imbibing the stuff, he's been allergic to alcohol touching his skin for years. It's not life threatening in any way, and it gives him a good excuse to spend ridiculous amounts on fancy French lotions."

"Given that he's on the verge of being reunited with Jennika it does seem odd to set him up with four other women," Peter commented.

"Hmm, about that—don't expect a particularly romantic reunion as far as she is concerned," Mozzie said, enigmatically.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Peter questioned.

"Well, for starters, she already has a man in her life, and one that Neal could never compete with. Just how closely did you examine her ID?"

"Closely enough to know it was fake, and there's no Genevieve Nanterre in the DMV database."

"The ID may be fake, but the person is real enough."

"Huh?"

"Try Genevieve _of_ Nanterre," Mozzie suggested.

Peter looked blank.

"As in, _Saint_ Genevieve of Nanterre," Mozzie added.

"I still don't follow you, Mozzie. Are you saying she's a saint?"

"Not a saint!" Mozzie scoffed.

"She's a nun!" Elizabeth exclaimed.

"A lay nun, to be exact," Mozzie added.

"What's the difference?" Peter asked.

"Not a lot, actually. Either way, even at the top of his game, Neal's no match for Jesus."

"How exactly do you know all this, Mozzie? I know you were somehow involved with getting her out of Drummond's bank. What was your role in all this?"

"You can't seriously expect me to answer that?" Mozzie retorted.

"Okay, off the record. For now, at least, it's the best I can do."

Mozzie thought it over for a while before continuing, somewhat hesitantly.

"When Neal called, I put two and two together and realized that if this was the same girl he cried himself to sleep over for months after I met him, it was only a matter of time before he got himself in deep trouble helping her. I convinced him to leave it to me and I may have engaged a colleague to get her out of the bank before you moved in."

"And the fire alarms and sprinkler system?"

"On that, I plead the fifth."

"By which you mean Sally hacked the bank's safety system?" Peter asked, referring to Mozzie's computer genius of a girlfriend.

"No comment," Mozzie replied solemnly.

Peter knew better than to pursue that particular point any further. "What happened after your _colleague_ left with Sister Genevieve?" he asked instead.

"Well, she was pretty shaken up. He offered to drop her someplace but she declined and got out of the cab in Central Park. From there he followed her back to St. Ursula's shelter downtown. The Ursulines are a teaching order, and the shelter specializes in helping the homeless get their GEDs while staying there. My guess is that she teaches there."

Peter shook his head. "This whole story gets stranger by the minute. How exactly did she go from being Jennika Swenson to Sister Genevieve? And what's a nun doing dressed up to the nines, cashing fake cashier's checks?"

"God only knows," Mozzie sighed.

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><p><strong>TBC<strong> - I appreciate your feedback; if you are following this story please take the time to review it.

Many thanks to _**mam711**_for taking over beta reading this story.


	24. Chapter 24

**Disclaimer**: White Collar belongs to USA Network and Jeff Eastin.

**Beta**: Thanks again to my new beta _**mam711**_ for stepping in mid-story with helpful observations, and patience at my seemingly endless supply of typos and grammatical quirks.

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><p>WARNING: This chapter makes reference to physical child abuse and may cause triggering. If in doubt, please skip it.<p>

**Chapter 24**

As it was clear Mozzie had said all he was going to regarding his involvement in the events at Drummonds and his limited knowledge of Jennika (or Genevieve as she had now become), Peter went on to recount the rest of Neal's story, which comprised six years of mundane farm labor interspersed with terrifying episodes of abuse at the hands of their captor.

The first couple of years had been the worst, while Neal and Jennika learned the rules of their new existence under the man's regime and struggled to handle the adult work put upon them. Their learning curve had been a steep one and he was quick to mete out punishments, especially if their mistakes resulted in wasted supplies, or worse still, damaged livestock. Both the children were very smart and although they had only had part of kindergarten before being kidnapped, they could read and write way past their age-range. The man had steadfastly refused them books or any reading materials and obsessively prevented anything coming into the house with writing. Whether this was because he thought it might help them escape or was just another mindless cruelty was unclear. All the farm supplies were kept in bins in a strict order and the children had to learn how to mix the various plant or animal feeds used on the farm by memory. One fateful mistake on Neal's part—mistaking a pesticide for a mineral supplement—had resulted in the loss of several chickens, and the man had dangled the petrified boy over the well, shaking him violently by his ankles, while Jennika literally begged for his life.

Initially, Jennika had tried to keep them literate, and when the man was away they would rummage through the garbage for scraps of packaging or mail to practice reading. These treasures were few and far between as most garbage was burned. They would scratch letters in the dirt or 'paint' them on each other in mud. That all came to an abrupt halt one day when the man returned while they were out in the cornfield and could not get to the well in time to wash them off. He had been so furious that he made them use bleach to remove the offending marks and Jennika's skin got badly burnt by the chemical. They never tried it again, although they were allowed to know numbers as they were essential to mixing everything, and one of the little luxuries they were allowed was to play cards. Inexplicably, the man taught them numerous games, from Go Fish to poker, a skill—which Peter noted ruefully—Neal had made extensive use of in later life.

The man was especially fierce when it came to the rule regarding their names. They were never to refer to each other using their old names. Any slip ups were immediately punished. Then he would drag them to the concrete block in the courtyard and whip them with his belt. Peter had watched as Neal's eyes went strangely dark and unfocused while retelling that part of the story. When Peter had tried to offer some solace by placing his hand on Neal's, his friend had flinched and involuntarily brought his hands up to cover his ears. Even though nearly three decades had passed, Neal could still hear the cruel swishing sound of the leather followed by the click of the metal prong as it hit against the buckle upon impact.

Early on, Jennika had taught Neal how to hold his breath and black out to get through the beatings. She had been in foster care since she was a toddler, and that she even knew how to do this was a heartache in and of itself. Jennika, it seemed, had been Neal's protector in their desperate circumstances. She taught Neal how to read the man's moods and watch out for the signs that he was about to lose it. She found hiding places for them to stay out of the way when things looked to be getting dangerous.

The man was a drinker, and although he never kept alcohol in the house, he would frequently go away from the farm and return several hours later a belligerent drunk. They would hear him cursing loudly as he stumbled around the courtyard and quickly retreated under their bed, leaving the blankets draped over the edge to conceal themselves below. If they were caught outside, there was the barn loft to run to, where they had emptied out some bales of hay at the back, providing a secret space. The man was not usually capable of more than a cursory search for them and they could creep back into the house after an hour or so, by which time he was safely passed out in his bedroom.

Their place of last resort, in the event that he did come looking in earnest, was a huge hollow tree on the edge of the property. It was large enough to fit them both and they would crouch down in the dark trunk while he ranted and raged. Those nights felt like the end of the world, and Jennika would desperately whisper prayers for help while Neal trembled in her arms.

As Neal revealed his sad history, Peter had done his best to hide his revulsion at the man's cruelty. Despite how horrific the first years had been, the saddest part for Peter was Neal's describing how he and Jennika eventually gave up on ever leaving the farm and came to accept their life there as normal. At some point they had become completely submissive and accepting of their lot, and to Peter's horror, Neal talked about the man as if he were a reasonable and even kind person. He told Peter how the man had taught him to shoot and described with pride what an accurate marksman he became, easily bagging wild geese on the wing. Ironically, it had been with the same rifle Neal would eventually kill the man with.

What really tore Peter up was the realization that Neal seemed to no longer have any memory of his life before being kidnapped. At one point, as the drugs wore off slightly and Neal seemed fairly lucid, Peter had asked him if he remembered who David Gibson and Jennika Swenson were, and Neal had looked at him blankly before asking what it was that he had allegedly stolen from them.

Neal's mind flip-flopped in and out of his ordeal. Sometimes he seemed aware that he was revealing too much and would stop talking and glare at Peter. At other times he slipped out of the present and lay there in tears as he relived the horror. Eventually, when Peter asked what had happened leading up to the shooting, Neal had looked at him for a long time before slowly turning his head away and whispering, "I'm not going to talk about that."

After that, Peter didn't have the heart to carry on. He sat for a while watching Neal as he drifted off to sleep, and tried to make sense of it all. Just hearing about what had happened had exhausted Peter, and he could not fathom how Neal had survived to be the man he was now. It was clear that what Neal had told him was only a window into the six years he and Jennika had been held captive. What else had gone on was too terrifying to consider.

When Peter finally finished his account of his talk with Neal, Elizabeth and Mozzie both appeared to be in shock, and he immediately regretted sharing with them.

He suddenly felt deeply ashamed at getting Neal to reveal so much of himself. It seemed a huge invasion of his privacy and Peter was left wondering if he had made an awful mistake. He didn't know if Neal would remember any of their conversation once the drugs wore off, and if he did, he had no doubt that Neal would be extremely upset at him.

For all the swagger and bravado Neal showed in public, he was intensely private, and it was clear from Mozzie's expression that even his closest friend had known few, if any, of the details of Neal's past. The three of them sat in silence, all trying to reconcile the Neal Caffrey they thought they knew with the child David Gibson.

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><p><strong>TBC<strong> - If you are following this story please take the time to review it. Don't feel like it? Then check out the author's note at the end of my story _Paperwork_!


	25. Chapter 25

**Disclaimer**: White Collar belongs to USA Network and Jeff Eastin.

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><p><strong>Chapter 25<strong>

The three sat in silence mulling over all that Peter had said. It was clear that there were great chunks of Neal's story still to puzzle out. Elizabeth was the first to break the silence.

"So how on earth did he end up in New York?" she asked looking at Peter, who shrugged back at her.

"We didn't get that far." He replied shaking his head.

Together they turned to look at Mozzie, who seemed deeply focused on the floor in front of him. After a few moments he realized that the attention was on him and looked up, blinking first at Peter and then Elizabeth.

"By train, or more accurately, by several different freight trains. NYC just happened to be the end of the line for the last one he hid on. That's where I met him."

"That's not what you told me before." Peter snapped.

"Suit, while it is true that Neal and I may have been less than accurate in recounting our shared history. With all due respect, what business was it of yours? If he wanted to reinvent his life, and given what you've just told us, who wouldn't, that's Neal's choice to make."

Peter couldn't really argue the point. He had to admit, given all he'd been through (and he suspected they had only just seen the tip of a rather frightening iceberg) Neal was entitled to do whatever it took to try and make a go of his fractured life.

"So how exactly did you meet him?"

Mozzie shifted uneasily. _Meet_ was not really the correct description for their coming together. He had literally _stumbled upon_ Neal and he was pretty sure his friend would not want Peter and Elizabeth to know the details of the encounter. The most believable lies are based on facts, as he had countless times coached Neal, so Mozzie followed his own advice.

"I was, umm, _departing _from a_ meeting_ with some _colleagues_ after a joint business venture _fell through_ and I happened to choose a route via the station and decided to rest awhile…"

"Oh for goodness sake, Mozzie, drop the italics already." Peter said wearily. "You were fleeing the sign of a crime and got chased into the station, where you hid. Am I right?"

"Crudely put, Suit. But no entirely inaccurate."

"And would I be right in thinking this was the middle of the night?"

"Early morning actually, 2:22AM."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Trust me, I'm sure."

The time was burned in his memory. The time he almost didn't make it out of one sticky situation too many. A disastrous job had resulted in his running for his life and hiding out behind a dumpster at the station. More exactly behind a huge box he had tripped over. Had the era of flat-screen TV's begun he might have been discovered but it was still the time of massive square television sets and that gigantic box had literally saved his sorry ass. He had stayed behind it for what seemed like hours and had checked his watch before finally heaving a sigh of relief and tentatively creeping out.

It had seemed an auspicious moment and it had just crossed his mind that 2:22AM was as good a time as any to start a new chapter in his life, perhaps crime-free, when he heard a rustling coming from inside the box. He was so wired that his first reaction was to cry out and then clamp his hand over his mouth while looking around for anyone within earshot. Only when he was sure no one had heard him did he cautiously lean over the box and slowly open one of the flaps.

As it transpired, 2:22AM was to be a turning point in his life and while it didn't result in his pursuing a crime-free existence it did change everything so substantially it was true to say, his life was never the same again.

What he expected to find was a cuddly cat, or a cute kitten, or a cuddly cat with a whole heap of cute kittens, maybe even a sweet puppy.

What he got was Neal.

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><p><strong>TBC<strong> – I know, I know… it's been a year (or more) since I posted. Truth is, I started reading other people's stories and thought them so superior to my own I reckoned I ought to pack it in. However, thank you to those people who just kept pecking away at me to continue. I would like this story to be told, even if I cannot give it the depth and nuance of so much of the fanfiction that is out there.

Also, this was conceived in my head well before Neal's past came up on the show. So it is pre-James, pre-Ellen, pre-pretty much everything that we now know about Neal's back story. I did try and change the plot to incorporate these new developments but it got too messy, so this will just have to be a different version of Neal's past.

I also don't feel I can go back to my beta after such a huge gap. So if anyone is out there who has read this story recently and is willing to help me make sure I don't contradict myself (and correct my awful grammar) I would appreciate the help.

And, as always, if you are following this story please take the time to review it. Don't feel like it? Then check out the author's note at the end of my story _Paperwork_!


	26. Chapter 26

**Disclaimer**: White Collar belongs to USA Network and Jeff Eastin

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><p><strong>Chapter 26<strong>

So 2:22AM was the exact time that those famous blue eyes were imprinted on him. Not sparkling with mischief, or smoldering with seduction, but bloodshot from exhaustion and sorrow and wide with fear.

The boy was so still and his gaze unblinking that for an instant Mozzie thought he might be looking at a corpse, he was naked after all. Perhaps he had been killed and dumped here.

But no, thankfully he was alive, if obviously not well. The young boy's body, while clearly that of a child was oddly adult like, lean though not underweight and muscled like a laborer or even a body builder. The heavily callused hands and feet spoke more to the former than the latter. His left ankle had a dirty plaster cast on it, split open and held together with torn strips of blue and white striped fabric. Mozzie spotted more of it in the corner, one piece with _Summertown Infirmary_ stamped on it. He filed the information away for a later date.

Despite the darkness of the boy's tan, the abuse his body had undergone was all too clear; deep bruises in every shade of black through yellow and a myriad of welts, some scabbed over, others a deep purple. He did his best not to stare but the kid was in such bad shape it was hard not to.

When he looked back at those eyes he was staggered to see that although they had now filled with tears, they shone with hope and the boy was actually smiling at him.

"Are you..here..to take me? Are…we…going now…to heaven?"

He was tripping over his words in what appeared to be something approaching breathless excitement.

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><p>Years later, while sitting waiting for the mail train to get them out of Milan <em>fast<em>, Neal told him that he had never seen a bald person before and as Mozzie bent over the box, one of the bright overhead lights shone behind him giving him a halo, convincing Neal that he was an angel.

His girl had told him that when things got so bad that they thought they could go on no more, an angel would come for them and take him to a life free of pain and fear. It was a story she had comforted him with so many times and he had believed it so completely, that after a brief, terrifying look out at the hustle and bustle of New York City he had found the box and stayed there, with every intention of remaining until the angel came.

Mozzie had been about to laugh at the story, but then Neal had leaned over and kissed him on the cheek and whispered "Thank you" and in that instant he realized that he had literally saved Neal's life. That he really would have stayed put until he died (or someone far worse than Mozzie came along to claim him, which scared him more).

The gesture, so uncharacteristic of his friend, moved Mozzie to tears and as he turned away to mask his emotion with a mumbled, "You're welcome" he spotted the large cardboard box leaning up against one of the platform pillars that Neal had been looking at beforehand.

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><p>Unfortunately for Neal at the time Mozzie found him, having no knowledge of this, Mozzie snorted his reply.<p>

"God, No! We're headed for Hell's Kitchen!"

The boy's expression immediately became one of sheer terror, the tears of joy that had seconds before balanced on dark lashes, started streaming down his cheeks, leaving deep tracks in his dirty face. His whole body began shaking violently as he tried to push himself back deeper into the corner of the box.

"But he was going to kill us, he was going to burn us alive! He hurt my girl real bad, we didn't know what to do, I couldn't stop him, I tried my best, I really did, but I couldn't stop him!"

"Okay, okay kid. Pipe down for god's sake!" Mozzie hissed, trying to put his hands on the boy to calm him down, but sending him skittering out of reach instead.

"It's just the name of where I live, I'm not talking about the 'real' Hell. I'm taking you somewhere where you'll be safe. You won't be hurt, I promise."

Mozzie had seen enough in his time at the orphanage to know that this kid had been through a lot, more than most could handle. He simply waited beside the box and kept whispering reassurances until the boy had stilled.

"Can you stand on that foot?"

Neal nodded mutely and struggled to get up. He made no effort to cover himself and left the rest of the rags in the box as he hobbled over to the side. After a couple of abortive efforts to lift his injured leg over the edge while balancing on the other, it was clear he was not well enough to get out unaided and his skin had gone pale and clammy.

"Scoot back, kid. I'll tip this thing over and you can crawl out, okay?"

It worked. Mozzie bent down to help him up on unsteady legs. He swayed slightly and for a moment looked like he would go down, but Mozzie held him fast and the color came back to his pain-filled face.

"Stay put." Mozzie ordered as he propped the boy against the wall and stripped off his own shirt to dress him in. Luckily it came down far enough to cover him up and the odd couple slowly shuffled out of the station.

He thought to offer the boy his shoes, but they were too big to be of much help. Fortunately, Mozzie found a luggage cart nearby, the flat kind used to load pallets. He put Neal on it and wheeled him home through Manhattan as if this were the most normal of events. Being so early in the morning worked to their advantage and those few people who did encounter them paid them no heed.

"Only in New York!" Mozzie puffed as he nervously looked around outside his building where he was apartment 'sitting' and left the cart by the curb. It seemed a pity to abandon such a useful piece of equipment, but he knew it would be gone by dawn and he had the distinct feeling that it would be better that he not keep anything that might be associated with the boy's past.

He was right, when he left to get food a few hours later, there was no sign of it and the world was none the wiser that Mozzie had, that morning to all intents and purposes, become a dad.

* * *

><p><strong>TBC<strong>

I know, I know… I am super slow to post. Forgive me please.

And as I am too embarrassed to put a beta through by sloppy writing habits, if you spot an error (plot-wise, grammar or typo) please PM me. I do care about these things and never can spot them myself.

And, as always, if you are following this story please take the time to review it. Don't feel like it? Then check out the author's note at the end of my story _Paperwork_!


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